An all time low

Vivian sat in her herd management course and wondered to herself for the tenth time in the day what it would be like to chew ones own arm off. Up at the front of the lecture theatre, the prof kept droning on about various hays and grass (and no, not the good kind). His monotone along with the wobble of his double chins were mesmerizing and hypnotic. Vivian tried to focus in on what he was saying. His Saskatchewan drawl made everything he tried to say last an eternity.

"This is a picture of some leafy haaay
*flip*
and this is some less leafy haaay
*flip*
here is some haaay with some mold growing on it
*flip*
And haaaaay with white mold on it. Notice the mold is whiiite.
*flip*
here is moldy hay with a stick
*flip*
moldy haaay with a stick AND a thistle
*flip*
moldy haaaaaay with just a thistle . . ."

All around her, Vivian could see fellow classmates that had gone down. One was sprawled against her desk, the other one nodded his head then snapped to attention and looked around frantically before snapping his head back and nodding off again. Two others were zonked out - lost to oblivion.

"I've always wanted to spend my monday afternoon looking at pictures of moldy hay and a stick," whispered Vivian to the girl beside her.

The sarcasm was lost, however, as the girl was asleep and drooling on her notes. Vivian tried to focus again.

"And this hay is a light green where as this haaaay is a darker green. This one is slightly greener."

An eternity later, the class was let out and like herd of Llamas in heat, the class crowded the doors and stampeded out.

Another two hours of my life wasted.
Well . . . not completely wasted.
At least I know the difference between moldy hay and a thistle now.
And yet, I still feel empty somehow.