Tomorrow is my last final and I am at that level of excitement where you announce every hour just how long it is until sweet freedom is yours. In case you’re wondering, at this time tomorrow I’ll have been done for 3 hours and 24 minutes. I bet you that’ll be a beautiful 3 hours and 24 minutes complete with a delicious and fattening post-final-meal and then packing that I will actually find myself enjoying because it doesn’t involve personal jurisdiction or contracts. Because at this point, anything not involving law exams seems like bucket of laughs.
I’m actually marginally enjoying the preparation for my civil procedure exam tomorrow, which has me worried that (a) I am in the midst of a psychotic break, or (b) This is actually one of those alternative dimensions like in Fringe and the real Liz is cowering under a pile of outlines and notecards, or (c) I have a brain tumor that is pressing on the part of my brain that houses the dopamine receptors, and that is why reading about Erie and state vs. federal law is not making me want to bang my head on the coffee table.
It’s probably none of these. I’m leaning toward the fact that my civ-pro-light-bulb has potentially gone off and all these random rules and restrictions make sense. It’s a lot better than my usual feelings on the subject.
Much better. Anyhoo, I will now be going back into my study cave with my books and eighteen gallons of coffee. There might be some greek yogurt on the horizon, too. Livin’ the dream, my friends.