Algebra Final Today!

The dust bunnies are growing in size and number, and are discussing a coup. The wood stove has issues with its chimney and I haven't dusted anything in weeks. The filing cabinet is empty, but there are papers spread all over the dining room floor, and the dishes in the sink are . . . unpleasant to contemplate.
However, my bed is made, and the laundry is taking care of itself, thanks to the wonders of automation.
Therefore, like the good little logician that I am, I must conclude that we are less than three weeks from the end of the semester.
Next week, the housekeeping blight will have spread further.
Meanwhile, I feel as if vital parts of my brain have left for the coast. I can't find essential documents the Ethics professor handed us in class last week. And I keep thinking about mortality tables and the expected value of insurance policies. These are all symptoms of having to take the Algebra final at 1 this afternoon.
Prayer appears to be needed, since I can't figure out how to solve a whole group of problems. I swear I was in class and watched the professor solve a bunch of these, and even solved some in class myself, but that series of problems is now a complete mystery.
I am strangely calm, though. As one friend keeps telling me, all I have to do is pass.

Try, Try Again

So, you're out in the driveway, washing the car, and you drop the sponge or rag or whatever on the ground. Most of us pick it back up, rinse off the gravel and go back to work. What if, however, you got frustrated and just left the sponge on the ground and used another one? How many times would you do this before you just gave up and went inside to check what's up on Hulu?

The suburban driveways of Western Washington are not filled with layers of dirty car wash rags and half-washed cars, so I assume that most people aren't that easily frustrated with routine chores. College for me has been the half-washed car. Logic and Algebra, including the irredeemable remedial classes, have been the car wash rags of my life: I get to the difficult parts, anywhere from a week to a month after the start of the new school year and I drop them. I pass the other classes, but since I can't get around the math requirement, I go on to things that are less demanding, like writing news releases, meeting the every-five-minute deadlines of radio news or maintaining sobriety.

It's about time I got the figurative car washed and put in whatever it takes to pass Intermediate Algebra. An authority figure at St. Martin's tells me this is the last time I'll have to take any form of algebra, if I can just pass it this semester. Oh, let's sincerely hope so.