I spent my last night as a 26-year-old meandering in a corn maze and rolling around in a big vat of corn. I also ate my first hot dog in 10 years.
Goodbye to the 13 of my 20’s. 27 is going to be good. I even like the way it sounds.
I haven’t even had a full week of classes and field, and, already, this semester has kicked my butt. After having more than a month off from classes, their return, coupled with my jobs and joint internship, has wiped me out.
Case in point: I came home from my mini-course today, fell asleep as soon as I got into bed, and woke up four hours later. This sleep reversal, where I’m snoozing in the afternoon/evening and not sleeping at night, has happened way too many times to count this week, and it shows. I’m super behind on homework (already?!), I’m forgetting about important tasks and screwing up dates, and my eyes have taken on that dark, zombie-fied appearance. Fortunately, when I eat, I don’t slobber all over myself, which would only work to complete this horror movie monster look of mine.
This upcoming week promises no relief, save for the weekend. That’s a week away, though, so, until then, I’ll just have to take things day by day, one impromptu nap at a time.
My holiday weekend starts at 4:30 today.
On Tuesday, I start my final semester of grad school.
I am both excited and pooping my pants.
When I moved to Ann Arbor almost a year ago (excuse me?!), I had one roommate who I expected to be living with until graduation. Since that time, I’ve gone from living with Roommate #1 to Roommate #2, and, this Wednesday, I will start living with Roommate #3.
Is this a sign that I am, indeed, a horrible person?
Needless to say, this game of musical chairs with roommates is grating, and I am almost completely baffled by the sheer ease both of their individual moving out processes have been. Perhaps they are both very carefree packers.
While Roommate #1’s move out was on the up and up (i.e. the university had all the paperwork in a row), Roommate #2’s move out is a little more on the DL, and I have been on the phone with housing too many times than I’d like to think about. Suffice it to say, I feel a little like a snitch, but the bottom line is this: I’m going home for a week on Saturday, and I will rest a lot easier knowing that a complete stranger is not shuffling around the house.
I am too old for this.