TurboSux and Other Ravings

I spent forty dollars on software to file my taxes electronically, only to be visited by the screen that says the government hasn't completed the necessary forms. So I have to wait.
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Because it's snowing, I made smoked turkey soup. Not bad, but it needs salt.
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In anticipation of job interviews, and with a nod to fiscal responsibility, I've been surfing e-Bay in search of decent suits. I'm a 48L because of my shoulders. The jackets are always too big, but not so that I look like a twelve-year-old in his brother's hand-me-down. The pants usually have to be deconstructed and rebuilt. At that size, the waists are somewhere around 50 inches. I am not. So, with every suit comes an extensive alteration bill. However, on e-Bay I can only conclude that there short, fat gorillas hawking Italian suits. All the 48L suits come with pants that have 29-inch inseam. For even the most miserly hem, I need at least 36-inch inseam. These suits must be intended for men who's knuckles are dragging three inches behind them when they walk. How else is it possible to require a long jacket and short pants? Maybe Auntie Mame is stocking up? I may be forced to save my pennies and hope for a clearance sale at Barny's where they sell men's separates.
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There is a weekly quiz in my editing class. I went into the quiz last Wednesday with my mind a blur with punctuation rules. I was sure of nothing. But by the time I'd completed the test, I felt pretty good. I left the room thinking an A wasn't completely out of the question. I went into this program, you must understand with the expressed goal of graduating with a 4.0.

As the week progressed, I began to second guess my work. The panic set in when I thought I might actually get a B on the quiz. That would mean two Bs so far. I calmed myself with the syllabus, which says that the lowest score would be dropped. I could factor a B into the remaining As and still eke out an A in the class.

Then I took that rationalization to the next level a day or two later when I began to believe that a C was distinct possibility. Every syllabus in the program carries a dire warning stating that if you ever receive a C you should immediately make an advisory appointment with the professor and seriously consider dropping the class. I have actually received on C on a midterm, but through some clerical magic I managed to pull an A in the class. While I knew the grade fairy wouldn't be visiting again this time, I was able to manage the panic and function knowing that one C could still be dropped from my class grade, and all would be fine.

Then the afternoon before I was getting the quiz back, I began to wrestle with the very real idea that I could land a D on the quiz. A D, while it could be jettisoned from the grade calculation, surely signaled deeper problems and could realistically be a warning bell for a grade less than a B in the class. Not only would that eliminate a 4.0 gpa, but those same syllabuses tell you that a class grade of a C puts you on academic probation where you have one term to redeem yourself, or you're out. Auf veidersehn. See, I can't even spell that!

As the class began, I steeled myself for the eventual F I knew was going to be glowing from the front page of my quiz. I prayed that I didn't cry when I got it. An F surely would mean a lifetime of restaurant work and clearance sales. Of course, mine was the last paper to be turned back.

I got a B.