Happy Birthday to Me?

I woke up this morning and found even after 26 years of being alive I am still not a grown-up. You'd think I'd have stuff figured out other than what action figures, stuffed toys, and DVDs I want (I can't even really figure THAT out). Since I have a husband, I realize I am the envy of a lot of people, some seemingly more grown up than I, but I feel that four years shy of 30 I should have more going for me. I've become a shut in. Look, I'm in my PJs still and it's noon.

Anyway yesterday I had a day. So I have class at 6:30 in Toronto on Wednesdays, so I usually take the 4:45 train. Yesterday however, in anticipation of my supposed upcoming grownupness, I decided to finally register for my program (Magazine Publishing Certificate, which let's face it, will take forever to complete and likely won't lead anywhere). So I checked the good ol' internet for the early train time and buddy said 4:15 and life was good. The GO station is a convenient 5-minute walk from my apartment. Surprisingly less convenient with water poring from the sky. The only umbrella I could find was all bent and full of holes (yes, there were actually HOLES in my UMBRELLA) so I threw it on the ground in disgust like three steps away from my building. The rain soaked through 2 jackets (I'm currently layering a series of spring jackets until I remember to get my winter ones from my parents' house). I arrived at the GO station, Captain Damp of the starship Monsoon, at 4:08ish, only to find that my trusty net had failed me and that the train left at 4:04. GAH! I had to wait around for the train I normally take.

I finally got to the school. Luckily I still made it to the registrar. I hate lining up for the registrar. Most of the stuff you can do online now. You can find courses, register for courses, pay for courses, anything you like except register for the program. This is to keep the administrative turtles employed. So I have to line up behind a bunch a people who can't figure out how to click on the pretty button marked "register for this course" while they ask stupid questions like "Duh, what's a computer?" and the admin turtles help them by taking long minutes to look up things and register for things that would literally take me two seconds if I did it at home. The turtles always have some comment about how much they hate computers, too. Anyhoo. I finally get there, give the lady my filled out form, complete with my VISA number so they can charge my $25 for no reason. She says I should receive a letter in 8 to 10 weeks. 8 to 10 weeks, come on now.

I go to the washroom just before class and discover that I have a surprise visit from (sorry guys)the period fairy. I knew it was coming but forgot because I was having a bad day. But really, when is the first day of your period ever a good day? Long ago I vowed to always have maxi pads in my purse so I would never be caught unawares. So much for vows. No time to go to the drugstore, I checked the washrooms on three different floors looking for one of those machines that sell crappy maxies for 50 cents. No such luck. So I created a pad by expertly wrapping wads of toilet paper around my undies. Ladies, has anyone else ever done this? You'd be surprised at how well it works. (You can come out from under the desk now guys, I'm done talking about my period).

My sweet husband took me out for dinner yesterday to Jack Astor's, the only restaurant that's open when I got home at 11:00 pm (closes at midnight). So we went there at 11:30 and annoyed the staff. They were gracious and did their best not to act annoyed though and there were other patrons. I had a veggies stirfry and a baked potato with everything on it and ate until I was 26. Nice. And luckily I was dry by then and wearing a store-bought maxi with wings and dry weave and everything.