TALK AMONGST YOURSELVES WHILE WEBASSIGN IS DOWN. NOT WITH HIL.

FUCKING WEBASSIGN.

Did Webassign move my keys?

This morning was so stressful and upsetting -- and it was all my fault, 3 different times, because I am a fucking MORON -- I'm still not over it. (SPOILER: we DO have the marriage license.)

We drove downtown, I grabbed my purse for change to put in the parking meter, and my wallet wasn't in my purse. My wallet is ALWAYS in my purse. I cannot think of a single time I've left the house with my purse and my wallet wasn't in it. But still, this time, it was not. No wallet = no ID = no marriage license. So we drive back home, with me apologizing and crying the whole way. I'm making Tim extra late to work, I'm so stupid, etc., etc.

Drive back downtown, find parking (which was traumatic in and of itself), go to the courthouse. Need to use the bathroom. Cannot find one, despite it being a public building. Ask a guard "Where is a public restroom, and what floor to we go to for marriage licenses?" (Note: when I had jury duty in May, there were big signs indicating where to go for marriage licenses.) Guard says the bathroom is on the far side of the building, and we are in the WRONG building for marriage licenses. So, no, one does NOT obtain a marriage license from the courthouse. And if I had even bothered to verify where to go -- which I did NOT -- instead of just assuming I knew where to go, then maybe we would have gone to the right building in the first place. But no, because I just assumed I knew where to go, I took us to the wrong damn building. Because of course I did.

So we walk several blocks, with me crying the whole way (yup, on a sidewalk in downtown CIncinnati), find the building, go up to the 10th floor for marriage licenses. No bathrooms. Ask a nice clerk, who says go down one floor. Go down to the bathroom. Come back out to the elevator, and a nice woman comes up and tells me the back of my skirt is tucked up into the waistband and MY ASS IS LITERALLY SHOWING. I made some pathetic squeak, said thank you, scrambled to readjust my skirt, and started bawling.

We go back up to the marriage license floor, and I have to sit on a bench in the hall because I am crying so hard there is no way any clerk will issue me a license while I'm in such obvious distress. Finally I calm down, more or less, and we get the shit done. I'm guessing I probably wasn't the most unhappy bride the clerk has ever seen, but I sure wasn't a radiantly beaming one by any means.

I'm so fucking over this shit. SO OVER. I just want the wedding to be done. I want to be married; I want to be Tim's wife (although I am genuinely AMAZED he's willing to marry someone so patently stupid and emotionally unstable), but I am SO OVER this wedding bullshit. OVER. IT.

And I'm still upset but I need to work on the editing test for the sexy publisher, because it's due tomorrow, and I would like a damn job so that I'm useful in some fucking way.

Totally all Webassign's fault, all of it. ita_!'s pain probably can't be blamed on it, but we can try.

AND WEBASSIGN IS DOWN. MY LIFE IS A SHAMBLES BECAUSE OF WEBASSIGN.

Oh Teppy, you're being way too hard on yourself there. But I'm glad it got fixed up an you are a go for marriage!

Oh, I hate the "skirt tucked in the back on my underwear" thing. Always super embarrassing! But yay! Wedding Licence!

WebAssign can go to hell. Along with Blackboard. I do not think anyone consulted either a teacher, an assistant, or anyone who has ever worked with students, or even in a building adjacent to students before building any "Learning Management System".

Oh Teppy, you're being way too hard on yourself there.

Forgetting my wallet and needing to drive back home and then back downtown again? My fault.

Going to the wrong building because I couldn't be bothered to check where to go for a marriage license because I assumed the courthouse issues them? My fault.

Not checking my skirt after going to the bathroom? My fault.

I am a chaos field, and seriously expect the tailor to call and say my dress has been irreparably damaged. Seriously. First my hairstylist has a hip replacement and can't do my wedding hair, then my brother forgets to get registered with the state to legally officiate, then the cupcake place gets our order wrong, then the goddamn fucking venue double-books us with a goddamn fucking historical reenactment tour, then I turn the simple act of getting a marriage license into a ridiculous arduous pain in the ass and make Tim late for work because I am a moron.

SO OVER THIS SHIT.

What meara said, Tep. It's done now! You have the license! And you are far from useless.