Something wonderful.

Everyday I trudge to the library. So familiar am I with the place that I stop lost old uncles in the atrium and gently direct them to the floor they should be on. ("World War 2 books uncle? Take the lift over there to the history section on level 3").
I plant myself in the same seat by the window, where I will spend the rest of the day staring with half a mind at Esophageal and Thyroid diseases and the other half a mind on the rain outside and wouldn't it be nice if it were to rain the whole day long-
And said brain gives up halfway through Urology. I wish to violently chuck BPH and Prostate Cancer and confusing procedures such as uretoscopywithlaserlithotripsy and percutaneousnephrolithotomy against something that will give me a resounding, satisfying crack. Then I pick up a long lost novel and read and read and read till all thoughts of csytolitholapxyextracorporealshockwavelithotripsy is gone and flung out and decide it's a good time to leave.

Then I come home and spend the rest of the time re reading storybooks I've read tens of times before and possibly, be able to rattle off the words by heart. Late into the night.

I can only pray, very hard, for good luck and good wits and good sense about me for the practical exams and hope very very fervently that I have not imagined my somewhat decent ability to think on the spot and regurgitate fluffy, non specific sentences that would not reveal to examiners just how empty this one's brain is. Full of useless fantasy lands and warriors that fight impossible, unfavourable odds and emerge victorious.

don't you dare look out your window darling everything's on fire.