It is T-8 hours to my comprehensive exam for my master's degree.
About 4 hours ago, I called Papa John's to order a pizza. It seemed the student-cramming-for-a-test thing to do. It is also something that I never do. I seriously may have never had a pizza delivered to this place. Maybe once my first year here, but maybe not. I don't remember.
At any rate, the nice girl who answered the phone when I called Papa John's had to inform me that they don't deliver to my area after dark.
As I listened to gunshots about 1 1/2 hours ago (like a whole gun being emptied rapid fire), I just nodded my head and thought, "Yes, that's why I couldn't get a pizza tonight." When Thomas called to see how the studying was going and I told him the story, his immediate reaction was "You do live in the ghetto!"
"Yes," I replied, "that pretty much confirms it."
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