'Cuz Tom Hanks Said So

Ok, deep breathing now. I've got my statistics final in twenty-five minutes. I think I've crammed everything I possibly can into my head, and all I can say at this point is: Thank God this exam is open book. If nothing else, I'm definitely going to need to look up the ridiculously profuse use of Greek letters.
I'm about this close to a panic attack. I'm in the International Building, which is infinitely quieter than Old Main, which is definitely helping. Listening to the people around me - studying Animal Biology (the parts of a cat's brain, to be specific.) and some Arts stuff..."Who's that crazy guy?" "Um, that doesn't really narrow it down..." Several minutes pass. "Oh, I know. Andy Warhol." Well then.
I forgot to spray my suede boots again, or rather neglected to buy the stuff in order to spray my boots. I bought the spray at WalMart today, but little good that does me now. My boots are wet, my socks are wet, and of course, by extension, my feet are wet. This alone makes me want to go home and hide under a blanket. Possibly a heated one.
I want to cry. But that's really about the least constructive thing I could do.
Besides, there's no crying in baseball. Or statistics, apparently.