Can you please check my grammer in this essay

Since the day I started my pointless-most-mind-numbing-exhausting-and-boring school in the world, my mum screeches her somewhat high pitched voice at sharp to wake me up from my heavenly, idyllic sleep. “Name, get up. Now don’t be stubborn and get up!” she would cluck like a roaster. Vigorously, I jar myself out of my deep sleep. Typically, I would privilege myself with ten to fifteen minutes extra in bed although since past few days mum has been pesky about my ‘unethical attitude’.



Indolently, with a gloomy heart, I heave myself to the toilet. Predictably, I am reminded by my ever-so-taunting sister not to fritter a long time in the toilet. She is not to be blamed. Taking long time in the toilet is one of my worst habits but she can’t accuse me for that just because I am a bit of a daydreamer. I literally spend fifteen minutes in the toilet just perturbing about school with my brush in one hand and paste in the other. Out of the blue, dreadfully wanting to go to the toilet, I hear my sister snarl “Have you fell asleep Name?” and that’s when I realize I need to hasten! Oh boy life is hard!



Glimpsing myself in the unreliable mirror for the very last time (which still doesn’t portray my image quite right), I head downstairs for beak fast. Obligating me to eat my breakfast, my mum places a bowl of cereal in front of me. Emphatically, as I gulp the bowl of cloudy water assorted with crumbs of cement down my gullet, I am lectured by my mum to wear the most repellent, dreary coat in the world when I go to school. If by mistake I raise a question asking her why it is so vital I am reminded about the possibilities of getting “pneumonia” or “frostbite”.



Scrambling towards my categorically tedious, primitive foam room, I hope not to be late again. But fate plays it role. Hastily the teacher rolls her rather fatigued eyes at me demanding for justification. Rapidly trying my luck, I present my case to her and back my self with evidence, showing her the forged note I wrote earlier. And as expected the judge tells the decision against my party. I am sentenced detention.



Instantaneously glancing across the tutor room, I notice my classroom’s new seating plan set by our “intriguing” teacher. At times I wonder why she doesn’t sort herself out before condemning others (Maybe I should remind her about a really convenient invention called a mirror). Indolently, I walk to the deceased corner of the room where my new seat is. Mrs Name delivers her lines as if she was Anne Robinson and she was sending the weakest link home. Eventually the bell goes!



Hauling myself to the first lesson, I am already thinking about the end of the day. Boring, the lessons are with no charisma in them. A joke about our teachers does lighten the atmosphere though; in maths we question the teacher’s intelligence as we doubt the level of sanity he has. Talking about our maths teacher, his accent is really peculiar- his Scottish accent pushes through the static like the fist of an irate Scottish god who had missed tea. The way he speaks makes my ears gnawed off by Pit Bull until my ears are shattered into million of pieces and then at long last the bell rings.



Seeing that I have break afterwards, second lessons are something to look forward to unless -it’s a lesson with our history teacher. I literally hate her for the simple reason of her hating me. Despite the fact I concentrate so hard in my history lessons, carefully writing all the notes down, answering in class whenever possible, the teacher criticizes me about the lack of effort I contribute in her lessons. Breaks and lunches go fast (believe me, when you gossip about your favourite celebrity crush, and about your worst teacher of all, time does go fast.)



Ultimately, when the school ends I sigh in relief. Walking with my sister is something I look forward to. We chat about our future dreams and aspirations, giggle about the two lesbians in front of us who tend to kiss each other from time to time. By the time we reach home our stomachs are aching because of laughing constantly.



When I reach home my mum pesters me about doing my stinking, monotonous homework. So I grab a snack and get on with my homework. After homework I usually go out with my friends. My mum has a tantrum if I come back home any later than 7.00’clock. If that happens she is on her high horse. Then I have my dinner and my mum nags me about eating at the couch because her “new sofa set” will get ruined. She even considered the idea of putting sheets on the sofa so they don’t get ruined but after dad disagreed with her she abandoned the idea of doing it. I go upstairs and pray to God. I organise my bag for school and finally go to bed. End of a tiring day!