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I got locked out of my car, a spider bite, a paper cut & burned my hand.

None of this hurts as bad as the grade on my Spanish paper.

And at least the cat didn't play with my toes while I slept last night.

However,
Thank God this semester is over in 3 days.
-or-
Ojala que este semestre sea muerta!

That may or may not be the exact way to say it, but I think it gets the point across.

I went to the department of foreign language to find out which instructors are instructing which class and I was told that "they weren't allowed to release that information, I had to wait until a day before classes (so 5 days) to find out online which instructors are instructing which class."

I also figured out why they do that,
Because most of their instructors cause pain in the deepest depths of the soul.

Like my Spanish paper,

We were instructed to write about being sick/going to the doctor/something I wouldn't say more than the word requirement in English on.

And, well,

In Spanish speaking countries,
apparently one is going to go to the hospital and then talk about symptoms they had in the past.
Also,

No body ate my store bought fried bananas for my spanish speaking country I was assigned.
Btw, my spanish teacher graciously gave me Equatorial Guinea.
Look it up, it isn't even a real spanish speaking country.

I can't tell if my feelings are hurt or not.
But they went up against some delicious Argentine pizza.

In 3 days, I will be either crying to myself in agony.
Or crying to myself in joy.
Probably a mixture of the two.

More likely than not, after I get my grade, I am going to shank her with a verbal knife of furry.

Until then, I will probably have 'vindicated' stuck in my head so you might want to tilt your head down and just walk away.