When Life Gives You Rancid Almond Milk

I woke up this morning 45 min late. Apparently, in my sleep, I had silenced my alarm clock. Twice. Immediately, a sickening feeling washed over me over me that was more than just the panic induced nausea. I stumbled to the fridge and looked at the almond milk I consumed voraciously the night before. It was expired. By two weeks. Guzzling a bitter cup of coffee, I darted downstairs to print off an essay that was due in ten minutes. The printer was out of ink. Perfect. 

I threw on some miscellaneous clothes and ran out to my car. While backing out of my drive way,  I looked down at my shirt- its was stained in the shape of Africa with what appeared to be spaghetti sauce. In tow places. This was wonderful because I had a presentation today. This is what I get for fishing it out if the laundry anyway. 

So I'm speeding down the street with spaghetti sauce on my shirt, burping up rancid almond milk and praying to God I make it to class in time to turn in an essay worth 20 percent of my grade. 

And I have come to this realization.

It's good to plan. Really it is, be proactive. Be detail oriented, expect the unexpected. Preparation will invariably spare you from the heartache of public humiliation and the devastation of marinara sauce and the stress of last minute frenzies. 

But sometimes you wake up on a Wednesday and life is weird. 

And you've got to go with it anyways.