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Demolishing an eight-hour, take-home Contracts final.
Stage One: Preparation.
For this you will need: one apartment which you will not leave; one laptop; Diet Coke, two twelve-packs of; Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, one carton of; leftover pepperoni pizza, large, two-thirds of, for consumption cold; an apple; eight Fruit Roll-Ups, cherry; vitamins, Flintstone; Ben & Jerry’s Caramel Sutra Ice Cream, one tub of; mineral water; Mike’s Brownies of Doom, one pan of; and two bottles of Pepsid, which I have already procured, from my brother, who is, in his own unorthodox and intermittent way, also a grad student.
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My second task was to take care of the environmental factors. I’ve got all of the phones unplugged, I posted a sign on the front door explaining my situation, and I’ve just about finished putting up all of the soundproofing. (I was going to save money by only soundproofing the study, but I like to roam freely while mulling over fact patterns, so I figured I’d shell out the extra cash and do the whole place. An unexpected benefit: When I spent about ten minutes tonight cursing Lex of Survivor for being a hypocritical fuckpig, my neighbors couldn’t hear a thing.) I’ve also prepared a plastic bag in which to seal my wireless router; I’m going to submerge it in a small tub of water and then freeze the whole thing, the hope being that I’ll only go online during my test if something really important comes up. Aside from finally finishing the meticulously crafted SuperBadassContractsMP3Mix (Highlights: “Stay”--the one by Shakespeare’s Sister, not Lisa Loeb--and Paperboy’s “The Ditty”) and training my cat to monitor the air conditioner, the only other comfort-oriented prep I did was to make sure that my lucky Issue-Spotting Pajamas were relatively clean.
And though food and comfort were important, seeing as how this is an open-everything take-home, I’ve set about converting my study into a veritable contracts war room; I’ve cleared out all non-essential furniture, all non-contracts books and papers have been either boxed, burnt, or sold, and I’ve replaced the window with a massive whiteboard. The two extra monitors, emergency backup printer, backup emergency backup printer, and mini-generator all showed up yesterday, which means that the only equipment I’m waiting for is the Icee machine. All textbooks, statutory supplements and commercial study aids are on the Contracts Crash Cart near the computer desk, along with the Restatements 2nd of Contracts, some draft editions of the Restatements 3rd of Contracts, and a nifty advance copy of the new UCC. (I also have a full library edition the South Western Reporter, but that’s more for reassurance than anything else.) My class notes are printed and bound, as are my four large outlines; the twenty-page exam outline is posted on the bulletin board directly in front of my computer. I also have some thirty flowcharts printed on 14 X 17 glossy, mounted on color-coded foam core, and suspended from my ceiling fan in a sort of Contracts mobile that, I must say, would be quite at home in the Tate.
All in all, I feel ready. And though we have eight hours to do the test, I’m going to use the middle four hours to catch a double feature of 13 Going on 30 and New York Minute, so if anyone needs to use the Exam Pad while I’m out, just let me know.