It's over.
I survived.
I don't want to talk about it because thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach.

We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Bar Blah

We're in the home stretch. And I wish I could say I've been glued to the books and outlines, but not so much. I've been doing really well considering my usual style, but I've been taking a few hours here and there to paint, run to target, etc. The apartment is getting really lonely and bare from time to time.

I haven't really started to panic, but 1/3 of the time I start thinking "what if....." I understand the Essay topics, but don't have elements and whatnot memorized that I can spout them out as needed. And there are a few topics that I know even less about (Trusts, Wills, Corporations, etc.) I just keep telling myself "minimal competence."

I've been reviewing and practicing my MBE topics, and scarily, I do better on some days than on others. So if I'm having a bad multiple choice day come Wed., we're in trouble. Everyone (non-law people) keeps saying I have nothing to worry about, but they don't know anything about the bar exam. Just because I graduated law school does not mean I'll pass. And no matter how many times people tell me not to worry about it, there's just this little voice of doubt in the back of my head. And I know if by chance I don't pass, it's not the end of the world. I think everyone who is taking it will understand. It really put it in perspective at the PMBR when he pointed out that 10 MBE questions are the difference between passing and failing. Yikes.

And of course I've already had the dreams. The other night I dreamed that I did the entire MBE in white out, and then was trying to spend the last 1/2 hour fixing it. While I know that it's unlikely, if anyone sees me with a bottle of it on exam day, take it away.

Comedy of Errors

This weekend was painting of my apartment weekend. My sister was going to come up and help me paint on Saturday so that I could stop staring at white walls, and it would be easier before I move everything up. I was glad for the distraction because with no TV and no internet, I spend most of my non-bar studying time at Wal-mart and Meijer buying crap I need.

The sister (A) and the Bro-in-law (J) decided to come up the night before with my neice and the mom to spend the night, and then J and Mom would drive home the next day, and A and I would follow. Only things don't go as planned. By the time they arrive, the neice is screaming because she's sick. We decide to head somewhere for dessert, only to have A and J both forget the diaper bag. So we stop by Meijer to get a few diapers and since J was there to help carry heavy things, I went ahead and bought a dining room table. Only we're chasing each other around the store, and A is starting to feel sick. So we head back to the apartment.

A looks like she's ready to keel over, so J goes to inflate the air-bed for them to sleep on. (I'm leaving out how when they arrived and opened the hatch of the van, they looked like they were moving in; exersaucer, crib, 3 suitcases, 2 fans, painting supplies, furniture dolly, pillows, air bed, etc.) But while J is airing up the bed, the motor explodes. Since we didn't have enough bed space, J and I ran to Wal-Mart (at 10:30) to buy a replacement bed. Get home, air it up, and it's the most uncomfortable, awkward looking thing we've ever seen.

By this point, A and the niece are sicker than dogs, so the mom and I give up my king size bed to sleep on the air mattress. A, J, and the neice take the king size. The mom ends up on the couch because even though the air bed is a queen, it's not meant to sleep 2.

The next day, to make a long story short, the mom, the niece and A hole up in my room while J and I take on painting. The mom was taking care of the 2 sick ones, and I was being nice to J because he hadn't carried the heavy furniture up to my 3rd floor apt yet.

By late afternoon, we had finished the majority of painting, and they were all leaving to go home and I was going to shower and then follow. I had to get all sorts of my stuff from home so I just wanted to spend the night. At this point, we all felt like we'd been on a bad vacation. 45 minutes after they left, I can't find my keys, and after a quick call, found that J had accidently taken them with him back to the Jesus Town-- an hour away.

Anyway, without going through it all, the mom brought the keys back after church this morning, and we had a nice lunch and I came home. So now, I have all the stuff to do that I was going to do yesterday and today. Which means that I'm going to go to the IBA mock MBE on Tues instead of Mon. Which is fine by me. I'm trying not to think of the fact that I have the PMBR mock MBE on Wed. That's going to be 400 MBE questions in the span of 48 hours. I can do it. I think.

Home Sweet Not Home

When I moved back home 3 years ago, I ended up selling or giving away a lot of my things because we didn't have room to store them here. After all, I'd been living on my own for the better part of 6 years at that point, and I had accumulated a ton of stuff. So it was goodbye to the couches, entertainment center, desk, etc. It was a good idea at the time. Not so much now.

It's amazing how much stuff I need to move into an apartment. I moved a mere pittance yesterday because I was by myself. Once I got somewhat settled in, I had to run to Walmart to get a few necessities (Brita water filter, shower curtain liner, etc) and then a second trip to Target for the things I forgot (bathroom rugs). At the end of the day, I had a bed, which was just delivered, and some styrofoam bowls and plastic spoons occupying my apartment. I even went to cook a hotdog and discovered that there was no microwave, so it was back to the store. Right now the contents of my fridge are: hotdogs, nacho cheese, carrots, hot dog buns, tortilla chips. And the chips and buns are just in there because I'm home for the weekend and didn't want them out on the counter.

It just doesn't have that homey feel to it yet. And while the bed was mucho comfortable, I could only twiddle my thumbs for so long yesterday. So I had to come home to the excitement of the Jesus Town 4th of July celebration. More on that later.

To tip, or not to tip.

We all have our "duh" moments. Unfortunately for those related to me, I like to blog about your duh moments when I have nothing better to say. My mother is the lucky target subject tonight.

I moved into my new apartment yesterday, and had my new bed delivered in the afternoon. The guy was super nice and put together the frame and assembled the whole shebang for me. Which was nice given that there's no way I could have hauled that king size up my 2 flights of stairs, nor manuevered it around the room and onto the frame. I wanted to tip him in appreciation, but had no cash on me, and it didn't occur to me that I could write a check. Instead I told him to have a good weekend and imagined the conversation he would have with his 10 year old son/helper on the way down to the truck about my lack of gratuity.

Which for the record, tipping makes me feel uncomfortable because for me, I feel like if they're not expecting a tip, it may be belittling to them. And I never know when to tip. This guy got paid a specific delivery rate based on where I lived and what floor. So normally I think that's enough, but then I don't think installation was included.

Anyway, back to the point. It bugged me all night, and anyone who knows me, knows that these things will eat away at me for months. So instead, I called the store, and asked if I could send a check to them and they could get it to him, because the guy is an independent contractor. [And anyone who started thinking with regard to tortious liability when I mentioned that needs to step away from the bar review material.] The store lady then had a duh moment and told me that she couldn't take a check for delivery because they don't know if it will clear by time of delivery. To which I had to point out that I already had my bed. But I wanted to send a check instead of cash to make sure it went to the right person. She then agreed, told me delivery guy's name, and gave me the address to mail it to the store.

Incidentally, I probably tipped twice as much as I would have had I done in cash, but writing a check for a small amount and then sending it seemed a bit insulting. But I wrote out the check, and a small letter identifying myself by delivery date, bed size and 3rd floor apartment so he'd know who I was. Afterall, if I'm going through all the trouble to tip the guy in part so that he doesn't think ill of me, I want him to know it was me that sent the check.

Back to the mom's duh moment. I was telling my mom what I was doing when she became a little worried. She pointed out that this guy was an independent contractor and therefore, maybe I shouldn't write a check. She said that it might not be a good idea because the check would contain my personal information, including where I live. And my brother and I, who are ever so delicate with our words, begin laughing and pointing out to the mom that the dude was in my bedroom so I think he knows where I live. My name was also written on the plastic coverings, so I wasn't giving that away either.

To ease any remaining worries, I assured her that I didn't draw any hearts or XOXOXO on the card I enclosed, and that I kept it very formal so he didn't read it as, "come by and see me sometime." I also pointed out that I wasn't giving away my address. My checks still carry the Jesus Town address. Happy stalking, delivery dude.