It’s Just the Foulist, Most Gruesome Nightmare, Ever.

Hopefully, February 22 will be the day I attain my freedom a.k.a my license.

There are too many “Worst Case Scenario”s running through my head as the day creeps up. I fear some of the following:

• Automatic Rescheduling due to my door’s refusal to open.
• Other reasons for which my nightmare would become a reality would be if  my car gets stage fright. If it is for lack of gas or its nerves got the best of it, basically, I am screwed.
• Cats, birds, or even crazy humans that decide to use this day to cross the street and attempt to defy nature will be the doomsday device which will never allow me to obtain a license.
• I am almost certain that sending someone on an ambulance to the hospital is not an automatic pass, nothing near that improbable miracle.
• The evaluator will turn out to be the reincarnation of a bug I killed who only seeks revenge.
• Whether it by perfume, or my cotton fiber clothing, The evaluator will have an allergic reaction and puff up like Mrs. Puff.
• February 22 is the day  I forget what is left and what is right.

The thing I do not worry about is my ability to  stop at a stop sign. I am the master of stop signs.

If You Could Mind!

It is the worst when your attempts to dagger someone in the heart with a mean retaliation comment fails to hit the target. As it it seems, me and those who suffer the same challenge have a difficult time with the follow through section of the mission. I would not mind one bit if the target helped by picking up the dagger and plunging it into himself, himself! The mission cannot be crossed off the list until I get some sort  of verbal understanding that I have been successful. Satisfied with ouchies and tears. (yes, tears speak).