One of a Writer’s Story

One of a Writer's Story

It was a sunny afternoon. A sunny Friday afternoon. I had just returned from school, a little tired. I spent the latter part of my morning in a quite interesting class—CHE 509. Process Optimization. It is one of the few courses that interest me in my department because it deals with real-life problems and not the regular dy/dx and imaginary fuel refining I have to handle.

By the way, I study Chemical Engineering.

An aspect of the course deals with how to formulate real-life problems into mathematical models in order to achieve the best outcome such as maximum profit or minimum cost. According to the lecturer, we optimize every time—which is true. We make preference-based decisions, based on the limited or finite resources and time we have. So, on getting to my room, I decided to put it into practice.

My friend, Matilda, decided to buy me lunch after I ranted for few minutes about how I craved Amala and okra soup, boiled beans with lots of stew and plantain, bread and peanut butter, and then chicken and chips—it is funny how I crave so much and end up eating so little. Since we were close to a local Amala joint, she suggested getting me that. I agreed because instead of spending time to prepare Amala and ending up getting exhausted, I can invest the time in something else. There you have it, optimization came in.

On getting to my room, I bolted the door behind me, dropped my school bag, changed my clothes, and set the table before myself. I decided to rewatch Mortal Kombat while I eat, I can’t come and kill myself.

After eating, sleep wanted to take over but I was able to shake it off. I picked up my phone to write an article so as to meet up with my task for the week.

Even though I was tired, I was able to complete it in no time. With a smile of accomplishment on my face, I hopped to WhatsApp to share the article with my boss. Alas, Microsoft Word did me wrong—it said I cannot access my write-up.

Won pada get me! (I have eventually been gotten).

I just could not cry. On the spot, my head began to ache and I sort of lost control. I didn’t know if to sleep peacefully or start the journey all over again.

Why would Microsoft Word decide to do me wrong?

I was pained! So pained that I had to write about it.
So, now, I’m thinking, what if this happens to my project work? (Pinches myself)

God forbid!

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