My life is a series of first world problems

All of my problems are truly unique and insufferable.

Here is a quick run through of my daily problems:

First, I wake up in a room where the temperature is just moderately warmer than it is outside. I face a serious dilemma: How do I get up without facing the cold? I have a space heater, but I’d have to take off my covers and walk three feet in the bitter pneumonia-inducing chill of my room to turn it on. The only thing that gets me out of bed is my expensive Tamarac Moccasins that are slightly too big.

Later, I have to wait a whole 50 seconds for my shower to warm up. During that time, I sit on the toilet thinking about how unfair life is, because it takes longer than 50 seconds to scroll through the updates on my Twitter feed.

Before I leave my house in the morning, I curl up into a ball in my closet when confronted with the decision of what coat to wear. I have eight coats with differing levels of warmth; however, the temperature when I leave in the morning is generally 15-20 degrees cooler than it will be by mid-day. I will invariably make the wrong decision and be a sweaty mess by 2 p.m. — and I hate to sweat.

Sometimes on my walks to and from class, I get caught behind slow walkers, and I can’t decide if I want to speed up my pace to pass them or just give up.

While I’m in class, I like to be on my laptop, but my archaic, circa-2008 HP laptop’s battery does not last long enough to make it through class. When my battery dies, I actually have to pay attention and be a part of the discussion.

If I eat at Burger King, I have to use more than one handful of single-service ketchup packets because their french fries are too salty. Sometimes it takes longer to open up all those packets than it does to eat my delicious meal.

In between classes, I can’t decide what to listen to from the 8,000 songs on my iPod, so I put it on shuffle. Occasionally, the music I used to listen to in high school comes on. It reminds me I will never be able to write a hilarious high school comedy movie because of how undramatic and easy life was back then.

When I’m finally done with class and walk to the bars, the most efficient route requires me to pass Occupy Bloomington. I understand why they are protesting, but I’m too lazy to participate. I feel bad, so I have to walk an extra block out of my way so I don’t see their disappointment.

At the bars, they don’t serve Dogfish Head. They stopped shipping here because Indiana is a backward hellhole with only one major city. Instead, I have to sip overpriced domestic light beer.

On my way walk home, the only food that is still open at 3 a.m. is
Rally’s. It’s greasy and cheap — suitable for my needs, but when I order, I have to make small talk with old acquaintances from high school. Sometimes I go hungry to avoid that awkward social interaction.

Once I finally get home, I cry myself to sleep knowing I had a lot of fun, but no one ever takes photos for Facebook. I’ve had the same profile picture for a whole week now. How are people supposed to know I like to party?

But what’s the worst is this will all come off as simple complaining. No one understands my pain.

UPDATE: I went to the post office to mail my electric bill, they said one stamp was 60 cents. I only had 50 cents in change so I had to pull out $10 from the ATM to cover the extra ten cents. I just don't know what to do anymore.

­— nicjacob@indiana.edu