There are times in which mistakes are made, life goes on, and few people think anything of them. A few of these times occur in such a manner as to inspire the victim to entertain the idea of transversing time in order to advise his or her past self to not make said mistake. These are the worst, because they plague you for a long while, and the thoughts of these mistakes seem to frequently arise, if only to spite the owner of the mistake.
A grave mistake was made last fall; specifically while I was signing up for classes this semester. I decided that an 8 week English Composition course sounded like the way to go. I was mistaken. An even more dire mistake was made when I missed the first class period.
In order to try to remedy, nay lessen the magnitude of this mistake, I made a trip to Wal-Mart last night to buy a planner and a small composition book to take daily notes that I seem to keep writing on blank paper, folding, placing in my pocket, and either throwing away or washing.
I left my brand new planner at home all day.
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