All right Internet, let's do this.
I walked up to campus today, apparently, with the largest section of my backpack zipped wide open like the Great Pit of Carkoon. Not a big deal, since all of my textbooks and notebooks were in that pocket. If they'd fallen out I would have been revealed for the naive fool I am. The only thing that would have kept me from looking like a common freshman (note to futurity, and in particular my numerous descendents: I have real derision for neither the term nor the embodiment of "the freshman," and you kids are going to do great at college)—that side note, I dare say, was long enough to warrant starting over from the beginning. The only thing that would have kept me from looking like a common freshman (remember our talk?) would be my complacency as I walked away from the piles of books and study materials on the ground. A book's a book's a book, and I could check out a baker's dozen of a baker's dozen at the school library.
Fun fact, though, there's a collection agency out against me from the local public library. Because of some hefty fines I incurred over the summer from checking out two bakers' dozens (note the apostrophe; these are two individual bakers we're talking about here) of books and keeping them a couple baker's dozens (this post is a syntactic nightmare; same baker here) of days late. That is not a joke, but you'll think it is, so I'm fine disclosing that so openly at the moment.
In case this is used in a court of law: Your Honor, it was the stenographer.
