So it's Sarah's last day of being a teenager and what does she do?
She carves a chunk out of her arm with scissors while opening up a birthday package.
So amidst blood and hyperventilating, we went to the health center and now she's all patched up.
Now I'm stressing because my computer is slowly dying and I don't have a charger to revive it, I have a meeting with my professor at five, and I have to write an outline for my philosophy paper for tomorrow on Decartes.  I hate this semester.
And I still don't know what's going on with Ireland.