If I were you, I would not believe this week’s low could actually be real. It was one of those moments where you just sit back and think, “is this really happening to me right now?”

The scene: it was 11 pm, Tuesday night. 11 is way past my usual bedtime. I love getting all my work done and being in bed early so I can chill before I sleep, but this week made that impossible for me. I had two exams and two papers due, so I was working from the moment I woke up to the moment I started dozing over my keyboard. It sucked, but at least it’s over (kind of – I have to take my second exam in an hour). 

I had an economics exam on Wednesday, so of course, before I get into my low, I have to complain about that. My professor’s way of explaining the content doesn’t click with the way I learn, so I struggle to grasp the material. It really isn’t hard, but for some reason, when he teaches it, it makes less sense than it did when I read it on my own in the textbook.

On Tuesday, I was crazy stressed about my exam (the test was Wednesday morning), and I had been studying all week. I even skipped tailgating the whiteout (what a loser) – yes, I regret it. 

At 11, I finally allowed myself to stop studying because my brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Did I feel prepared? Nope. Was my feeling of dread going to get any better? Nope.

I elected to take a “self care shower.” We’re talking full hair wash, scented soap, and feeling like a million bucks when I get out type of shower. I gathered all of my toiletries and put them in the stall. Then, I realized I forgot my shower shoes (I don’t mess with warts, so I needed those).

I ran back to my room to grab my flip flops with microeconomics concepts of marginal utility and consumer optimization dominating my thoughts.

I returned to the bathroom, mostly thinking about my exam, and tried to open my shower stall, with all of my shower materials in it.

It didn’t budge.

“Excuse me?” I thought.

I tried again. Nothing.

It was locked. I had somehow locked myself out of my own shower, with all of my stuff in there. 

I spent two minutes with my head in my hands, contemplating why god hated me so much. Seriously, who allows the universe to lock someone out of her shower when it’s already late at night and she’s already stressed out. 

When I collected myself (as much as possible given the current circumstances), I contemplated my possible options to access my showering materials.

1. I could crawl under the shower door, amongst the hairballs and stagnant water on the shower floor.
2. I could climb over the top of the shower wall. 

Option 1 was clearly not happening. Not a chance I was army crawling down there. I don’t know what is on that floor.

Option 2 it was. I hoisted my exhausted body up on a random sink outside the shower (thank god that was there), and shimmied halfway over the shower wall.

I dangled myself half-in and half-out of the stall, laying belly-down. My head and torso were inside the shower, and my legs remained suspended on the other side of the wall. If I stretched my arm as far as I could, leaning my head precariously far below my center of gravity, I could just barely reach the latch to open my shower. Please understand how close I was to falling face-first onto that musty shower floor. 

After slightly dislocating my shoulder, I got the door open and took my shower. It was not as good as I hoped, probably owing to the amount of effort it entailed to actually start showering. 

Anyways, note to self, don’t let your shower door slam too hard. It may lock from the inside.

My high this week: my exams are over. It’s been one of those weeks where the only good part is that I got through it.