You know how you frantically finish a brief on the 14th Amendment and barely barely finish it and upload it to the class website (ha! technology!) one minute before the deadline and then look around the site and wonder, "Hm. Where are the other briefs for this case?" and there are none and then you look at the main page and realize that they weren't due for another five hours but yours is already uploaded and it only, upon re-reading, has one tiny typo, so you just don't bother with changing it? Yep. Story of my life.
Since in faithfulness to the title of the blog I try to add Africa every now and again (you know you want it), I shall mention that the Worst Day of My Life, which was 9 August 2004, as I was trying to get on my flight out of Rwanda, was very similar to the story of my life, only all in one day. After getting fake money in exchange for the truck and not sleeping and missing the meeting with the lawyer and the laptop finally dying and the power going out so I couldn't print the contract for the truck and getting to the airport 30 minutes before departure and the airline trying to make me pay $900 for excess baggage (note that I did not possess $900) and arguing about it with the country director of Kenya Airways and the power going out again in the middle of the conversation, cutting us off and getting on the plane at the exact time we were supposed to be taking off and the pilot announcing that we were delayed because of a passenger as everyone stared at me and crying against the window as the plane took off, leaving behind a country that I had loved and called home for two years and not knowing when I would be back, I ended up at the Intercontinental in Nairobi, paid for by Kenya Airways (because the overnight layover was their fault) and there was no feeling in the world like calling my sister to say happy birthday and going to bed in the crisp white sheets.
The thing is, as I'm learning finally, well into adulthood (okay, 8 years into adulthood): things are probably going to work out. Somehow. Generally with little to no help from me. I just tend to contribute to the chaos. I blunder through life. I'm still not sure how I made it into or to law school - I wasn't sure that I had completed the applications until I started getting cards in the mail. And I've barely met every deadline for financial aid and even for telling the school I was coming. Still, it works out. I even manage to be relatively capable and professional much of the time.
P.S. I love run-on sentences. I'm so glad my English teachers can't see me now.