If I had to imagine a worse start to the semester I suppose it would include my underpant elastic ripped and hooked over my head by an atomic wedgie, my knee skinned, and my books slapped out of my hand. Since none of these things happened I guess that this is not the worst start ever. A hang-up in attending every single class I am registered for, having one cancelled due to visa restrictions of the professor, and needing my Padre to deliver a spare key in his pajamas sure seems close though.

Once again the excruciating bureocracy of taking classes at the University looms hours away. The sweet taste of the Hillside commute and the gritty delight of the Denali Highway have given way to begging for overrides and the uncertainty of automated financial aid. Joy.