You look at your watch, and angrily at the trunk. Registration has started at the college, you'll miss the courses you need if you don't get up there. You slam the trunk. You will figure this out later.
You drive to the college and race over to the registration line. While you wait you fumble online to check up on dog poo transformations. A helluva lot more than you expected to find, but very little relevant.
"Say, son, can I borrow your car," says your mother.
"Uh, sure," you say handing her the keys. Oh, no! "Uh, wait, I'll need those- what do you need the car for?"
"You'll be in line at least an hour, I'll have it back by then. Just need to pick up some clay for the art class, my old friend Eleanor Parker is the pottery teacher."
She's gone. Well, she probably thinks you still have that old clunker and won't even find your new car. But what if she does and finds the poo in the trunk? She might throw it out?
You register for classes, and try to register Keith, but they say he has to be there in person, or he can do it online.
You head over to where your car was parked and see your mother and her friend with a dolly loaded with paper wrapped blobs. You stare at the keys dangling from your mother's hand. You swallow hard, were all those blobs people.
"That's funny, Eleanor, I'm sure I only bought 40 globs of clay for the class, but there seem to be 42 here now."
Clay? Dog poo?
"So, what are you doing with all that clay?"
"Pottery Class 101!" Eleanor said beaming, "You and your mother can audit if you like, as we have to extra blobs of clay."