The Metaphorical Submarine of Destiny

I suppose I should mention, to those who happened upon my earlier post concerning the inevitable disastrous collapse of my entire post-secondary education (most likely in a giantesque bonfire of elaborate and highly pretentious papers on Dante, being the most readily available source of kindling in the College of the Humanities), that in fact the situation HAS BEEN AVERTED. The large, metaphorical submarine that symbolizes my

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PRODIGIOUS LEARNING

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has narrowly missed the deep and frightening Underwater Rock Face of Much and Unwanted Scraping and Puncturing (aka FAILURE).

Here, I shall diagram it for you.

Before:

                                          #@
 - - - - - PRODIGIOUS LEARNING           #@  EVIL ROCK FACE 
                                          #@   (FAILURE)

Now:

- _ 
    -_                        #@
      P                      #@  EVIL ROCK FACE (NOW THWARTED)
        R                     #@ 
          O
            D
              I
                G

As it turns out, the cause of my spontaneous existential crisis -- which had me entirely convinced that I would not only fail to graduate, but live with my parents for the next thirty years, turn morbidly obese, become the first human to contract an STD by watching television, and slowly decay into a pile of wretched human misery -- was, wait for it, A TYPO. Yes, god bless them, the registrar's office mistakenly reported that the due date for my final transcript from Athabasca university was Feb. 15th. It is, in fact, May 1st.

This means I can continue along my happy little academic journey and become all the things I mentioned above, only with a DEGREE to stare up at wistfully as I pull another creamy Joe Louis from the nearby fridge with my extensible mechanical appendage grafted to my waist with high-tech sweat-resistent polymers. Golly, isn't the future just dazzling?