My curse

I've told some, and now I'm telling the rest about a particular strange curse I have. This is the cures, of Irony. This isn't really a curse in the way that you'd think, because the effects are never really that bad.

Here's the latest incarnation of it.

11:30 I sit down with my overprice box of teriyaki chicken and rice to work on my physics homework. I know the concept on this stuff solid. I'm still doing pre-momentum newtonian mechanics, but the point is that this is homework whose difficulty lies purely in the math of it, not in any actual creative thought. I sit down, grab my book, my graph paper notebook, a pen, and my afore mentioned chicken and get to work. At around 1 I should head to PAB 115 for this weeks physics lab. should Instead I stick around to write out just how many newtons of force are delivered when a flower pot hits an inexplicable viscous fluid hovering 25 meters below wherever the pot first fell from (Actual problem.) At around 3 I look up, stretch in a way highly reminiscent of a wookie, and take stock of my situation.

"Dammmmn it!"

I missed my physics lab, because I was working on my physics homework.

Irony is a harsh mistress.