crankyI woke up at two in the morning to listen to the radio, clean, and read Terry Pratchett (am getting my mother started on PTerry madness. She mentioned that she was finally getting around to reading The Truth, so I thought I'd reread it myself. Vetinari's pricelessly cute in that one. Which means he was probably slightly out of character for the usual Vetinari. Digress much? You betcha).
Said reason for mood? Failed Driver's License test. Cried about it too, which is a bit stupid. But I so nervous I was shaking, biting, pulling at hair, what have you. And I knew, while I waiting for the testing lady to come out, I knew that I would cry. Whether I passed or failed or died on the road, I'd be crying. My stress was that great.
But, naturally, being me, I didn't do impossibly well under duress. No, I did pretty damn horrible. She told me to pull into the driveway up ahead. So I did. Wrong driveway. *bangs head against steering wheel* When I got the right driveway, I had to pull in to do the manuerabilty test, which is much, much harder than it needs to be. In my personal opinion. Because I can drive just fine, I can park just fine, I only run into the odd dumpster when under pressure (which, incidently, happened moments before the test. Thanks dad).
I can't do manueverability. I proved this very well, I think. Actually, I went forward ok. Then I realized that they placed the cones on an incline. A fucking incline, for christsakes. I know the DMV is a little pressed for space, but I think they're just trying to be evil now. Fuckers. Backing up did not happen. Hit the cone. Killed it. Cried over it. Went home feeling very weak and stupid.
My father is no help. He did a very good job of making me more nervous. Wish I could go without him, but I doubt they'd like that. Fucking parents.
