I walked through the door of class. But that is just the conclusion. Before walking through that door, a girl down the hall caught my attention. I paused to watch her walk and turn into her respective classroom. I would have talked to her but there was a problem. The front of my pants was wet. The thought of someone thinking I pissed myself was enough to cause me to shy away from immediate conversation. But my pants wouldn't have been wet had the bathroom had adequate paper towels. After urinating, I had washed my hands and then reached for a towel. To my horror, there were none. I looked for an electronic blower but did not find one. So I had to shake my hands for a moment to get rid of the prominent water. It was then that I saw that my fly was still open. I quickly closed it upon hearing others entering the restroom. I then wiped my hands dry on my shirt, only to then see the watermarks that I left on the front of my pants. I simply could have avoided that if I had of only stopped by the convenience store beside school. I usually do to grab my classroom snacks. After that, I could have used their restroom. The law of probability says that paper towels would have been there. Alas, Murphy's Law says that there wouldn't be any, but I could have at least hung my hands out of the window on the remaining drive. But I didn't stop at the convenience store today because I was late for class. That was the train's fault. It always runs at a certain time each morning and takes five minutes to complete its pass. If I had have only left my house five minutes earlier, I could have avoided the train, but upon getting into my car to go to school, I scolded myself for waking up so late. Somehow, I did not hear the alarm for thirty minutes as it blurted its one chord song. Perhaps the heavy sleeping was due to going to bed so late last night. I had a lot of homework that needed to be taken care of. You know, the usual papers, projects, reports, research, mathematical problems, retyping of notes, graphic charts, reading, and the typical thirty-minute prep time needed in order to begin all of these things. But once I finished that, I had to at least try out the video game that I had bought earlier in the day. It was my reward for doing so good on my homework for the night. Unfortunately, I decided sleep was not a fit reward for doing well on the video game, so I played on. I could have avoided the whole fiasco with the video game had I not heard of its release date. Tragically, I did and was thoroughly intrigued by the concept. But I would not have been even listening for release dates if I simply had never bought the gaming console to begin with. That was mistake number one, but I had the spare money so I figured I should take the plunge. Sure, it was nice when it first started, but it soon turned into a drug that needed more games in order to keep a steady fix. Had I not listened to a guy at work, who convinced me into stepping over into the gaming world, I could still have the money spent as well as a good night's sleep. But no, that job was the real source of the troubles. It offered me the means to having the money ready when I made up my mind to buy the console. It also held a coworker who is the largest gaming nut that I have ever seen. Without that job, I wouldn't have any money, but I'd also have plenty of money, in theory, left to spend on more important things rather than blowing it on a video game. I didn't even outright apply for that job. An aquatint set me up with it. He was a friend of the gaming nut, and through that, he talked to the manager and arranged for my interview. Somehow, I was hired and began working there the following week. If only I had never met the person who would go on to become an aquatint of mine. He was a friend of a girl that I used to date. Actually, she and I were dating at the time that I met him. So the real source to all of this is an ex-girlfriend, someone who seems to be controlling my actions like a puppet on a string. Since the time that she dumped me, I can obviously see, through this series of backtracking, that she STILL makes it impossible for me to ever move onto another girl, no matter how hard I try to. Even if that involves piss tracks on the front of my pants. So I walked into class and took my seat.