An allegory on the meaning of life.

So I had a concert Tuesday evening, and it was very nice. It was preparatory for our big ACDA Convention performance this Saturday. Sister Hall has been telling us how important it is since the audition process, not just the first day of class. We will be singing in the Assembly Hall for a few hundred choral directors from around the country. It will be very rewarding. Anyway, last week she was telling us that we really need to get our uniforms washed if we haven't yet, and I was pretty guilty, since I hadn't washed my uniform YET (it's dry clean only; I do wash my regular clothes). And so, it takes two business days at the cleaners, and leave it up to me to leave it until the last day possible. I got it in Friday afternoon. I brought my suit on a hanger, and they told me they use their own, so I got to take my hanger to the rest of my classes that day. Anyway, Tuesday evening rolls along (did I mention the BYU laundry closes at 5:30?), and I'm typing my outline for a paper about Baroque influence in Brahms' Fourth Symphony, and all of a sudden, I think about the concert in a couple hours, and I realize that my uniform is at the cleaners, and I subsequently realize that it is 5:50! Not good. So, I don a sweater and race up ninth, cruise by Heritage, DT, and DT field, and arrive at the laundry at 5:57 (I'm not in shape). There's a guy at the door, and he opens it for me, so I walk in, and he says, "Wait, we're closed!" I was pretty desperate. 194 guys dressed alike, and one wearing a black suit instead of grey pants and a blue jacket? Not feasible. So, I say, "I need my suit! I have a concert tonight!", and there's still a girl at the cash register. Another girl behind the counter says, "We closed half an hour ago." The girl at the register says, "Your in Men's Chorus? (Actually, she said, "You're in Men's Chorus?"), and I replied hastily in the affirmative. Things were going my way. "Okay. We'll get it." "Thank you very much," I reply, very politely. As the other girl gets my suit, the cashier says, "We had about twenty of the Men's Chorus in here ten minutes ago." I nod and grin, still very politely, get my suit, and leave, very grateful for my suit, grateful for its cleanliness, grateful for the amazingly comfortable temperature outside with signs of a coming thunderstorm, and grateful that I'm not the only one who cut it close. I just did it my way.