6 hours

Oh, just think of all the fabulous things you can do in 6 hours. 6 hours! I can practically make it to Disneyland in 6 hours. I can make it to Tahoe and almost home in 6 hours. I can fly to Vegas, lose my house payment, get deliriously drunk and make it home in time for dinner in 6 hours. When I was working, 6 hours meant I only had 2 glorious hours till my shift was done. I can watch 3, maybe even 4 of my favorite movies (well, 2 if I chose The Godfather and Braveheart) in 6 hours.
So what is all the fuss in regards to 6 hours you ask? Where is this penchant for all that is dramatic coming from Erin? Oh I will tell you. There are words to be written about 6 hours. Not all of them excessively friendly either.
Some back story first. My shit class teacher gave us our mid term to take home, due to a scheduling conflict that was not going to let him be present during this week's class, when our mid-term was scheduled to happen. Since it was going to be open book and open note anyways, taking it home was not going to do any harm. The only clincher was that we upon finishing said test, we are to mail it to him and he is supposed to receive it no later that Thursday, the 20th.
So first, we are in kinda of a time crunch. Yes, I have to mail it only a couple towns away, but who knows how long snail mail takes these days? Friday was a no-go, I had plans. Same deal for Saturday. Sunday is the day I will work on my test and get it in the mail. Sweet, no harm no foul. All systems will be fully functional and ready to bust out a kick ass mid-term. All was well. That is until I got a message from Leland on Saturday afternoon. He said it took him 6 hours to finish the mid-term and that it was crazy hard and he was angry. Now, Leland and are about the same in regards to the class. We both feel we have a good grasp on all the topics. Insert slight panic here. I woke up, got ready, got food, ate food and finally.. took all my books and notes out to the back patio and buckled down.
Hour 1.5: I have finished 3 questions, skipped 2 and am about to freak out.
Hour 2: Commence full, hair-pulling, swearing like a sailor freak-out.
Hour 2.5: 6 questions are completed, 5 skipped and I surrender. White flag! I'm done!
Hour 2 and 35 minutes: Rick comes over, kisses my head, tells me it will all be ok.
Hour 3- 7 ciggs smoked, minus some hair, close to tears
Hour 4- Rick comes over, kisses my head, tells me it will all be ok and hands me a Venti Starbucks latte
Hour 5- half done- 5 questions skipped. Still freaking out. Panic is replaced by shear anger. Anger at my brain, anger at my idiot teacher and his stupid fucking scatttered notes. Anger gives way to full red-blooded rage.
Hour 5 and 45 minutes: am wishing every horrible disease on my teacher. Just a little Ebola. Nothing fatal. Please let him get just a touch of Entomoeba Hystolitica (amoebic disentary). I step away and have a smoke in my cool new chair.
Hour 6- done . fucking done. I can't believe the end is here. Then I knock over what's left of my latte on my completed satanic mid term packet. oh fucking well. I can still read the answers and if the teach can't read it, then he can suck my butt.

So there you have it. 1 water, 1 diet pepsi, 1 venti latte, countless cigarettes and 1beer later and I am done. 6 hours of my life that I will never get back. And you know what absolutely kills me? I mean, seriously what really chaps my hide? If things had gone how teach wanted it to, we would have taken the mid term during class, which...may I remind you, is ONLY A 3 HOUR FUCKING CLASS. I would have failed for sure.

On the upside. The vile mid term is in the mail and I think I did well. Rick said that he is SO proud of me. He said that the old Erin would have given up and never gone back to class. That's what I love about that guy folks. Never once yesterday, during any of my hissy-fits did he come over and try to calm me down by talking. He was just there with a kiss or a hug or a coffee. It was awesome!

On the up upside. Today is St. Patrick's Day, one of my favorite days. An Irish Car Bomb and loads of Guinness is just what the Dr. ordered. I am going to spend the next 6 hours more wisely. Downtown Petaluma with my friends, drinking and having a laugh.

If you are feeling a touch of the Irish and go out, be safe and don't drink and drive. Have lots of Guinness or green beer and enjoy the fact that you didn't have to take a fucking 6 hour mid term.

'Éirinn go Brágh'!!!!!!