So here I sit, privately fuming at a registrar's office that could be on another planet right now rather than merely in another city for all the help they're being. Okay, revise that: they're not being any help at the moment, because I can't contact them. So here I sit, eyes going fuzzy from overexposure to my computer's monitor, and doing what? Sighing, I suppose. Twiddling my thumbs, hoping for a response from my programme coordinator—also wondering, "Why me?"
It always seems to be me.
Revise that—this was my fault: forgot to pay a ten dollar library fee. Yup, honours student, pre-registered, the works—forgot that half-way through last semester I brought back a couple books late. Not that the library reminded me or anything before blocking my registration, but that's beside the point. Point is, I forgot, and I paid for it.
I lied earlier—revise that. I failed to tell the complete truth. In all honesty, while sitting here fuming at the registrar for something that was basically my own stupid fault, I'm waiting for the clock on my eyesore of a monitor to read 3:30 so I can attempt to help out my friend.
It always seems to happen to her.
My friend does not get along with anything administrative. Something wrong always happens. So here I sit, hoping I can help her register, because she has to go to work to save up enough money just in case there's a problem with her government loan and bursary. There probably will be, knock on however much wood you want. So. As far as the registrar's office goes, she has a lot more reason to be upset: they deregistered her for reasons that were beyond her control. And still I sit here fuming, because while administrative blunders are a terrible reason for people not to finish their post-secondary education, administrative blunders and a ten dollar library fine is beyond irony.
And we still have to find an apartment.