I talk about it a lot, but I'm not really one to believe in karma. However I do think there's a certain balance to things, namely opposing actions. For example, friction relates to air velocity, momentum relates to mass, and the chance of me getting fat(ter) relate to how much nutella I eat (I have non-too-subtle feeling I'm going to be put on a fruit-and-veg' diet and dragged out jogging every morning, this summer, to get rid of "exam gut").
There are more subtle balances observable too. How much I tidy my room is inversely proportional to my productivity, which is (no joke) inversely proportional to my workload and the immediacy of the deadline (which is why my room is generally spick-spack around exam time). Fortunately my academic glands kick in at some point and break the chain of despair. This sort of reflex is known in the medical world as "last-minute-panic-itis". (NB: If you're from an admissions board and God hates me enough to have let you read this, I am of course joking).
Other examples would also include the quantity of nutella consumed increasing exponentially as exam time approaches, or how the amount of practical jokes* played seems proportional to the amount of stress experienced by the house.
So yes, it seems like there is fairly clear evidence that there is some sort of balance in nature. If this is true, though, then why the hell can't our examination board act 'naturally' and balance out the exams across the exam period, instead of bunching them up for me across a few days like little temporal nuggets of hatred. Thanks guys.
It's over in 10 days. It's over in 10 days. It's over in 10 days. It's over in 10 d....
* Click here to for the full story...* Addendum: As an act of revenge for my aforementioned predicament, it was decided that a little joke would be played on our housemate Jez. Surprisingly enough, I had no involvement in this dastardly plot whatsoever. While he was out shopping for food, a bucket of water was brought up to his room (conveniently placed above the entrance to our house), filled with lukewarm water, and placed near the window. I'm sure you can guess what happened when Jez arrived at the doorway, fumbling to get his key in the lock. Needless to say, he didn't need a shower that day (but took one anyway). Good times.