It's amazing what a month can do.
Battling breezy negative-degree temperatures, I struggled my way to class this morning, frigid and tired and irritable. As I walked up the stairs to my morning class, triumphantly tugging my scarf with the air of one who has SURVIVED and done it 10 minutes earlier than usual, I head for the door but stop short at the threshold - a pink flyer on the door cordially informs me that class is cancelled for today, please be sure to read the required material.
Figures.
So now I'm in the library, taking a break from my desperate quarter-long game of catch-up. I'm making it sound too dramatic, but I do feel like a little kid walking hand-in-hand with dad, my strides just a little too short to keep up with his, every couple of steps forced to jog a little to catch-up. Yeah, I know, me and my legs are short so I should be used to this, but you know what I mean. I have to choose which times I want to hangout with my friends more and sacrafice the other opportunities so I can stay on top of my homework, but I guess that's part of the package deal of growing up. Why did I want to grow up so fast again?
At least I feel more at home in my new house. 4 weeks, 1 party, and an orange room later, I feel more comfortable both with my roommates and the house itself. All the little decorative touches have been hung in the front room, a brilliant and friendly shade of orange that is amazing in candlelight, which was done just in time for our smashingly successful housewarming party. True, there were some interesting moments, my favorite mopping up puke from the staircase (not front steps but stairs right outside my bedroom), but it was a good time.
Carrie Chandra and I now know that the kitchen is the coldest room in the house, that we can't have too many things on in the study room at once without tripping the circuit, that the upper outlet by the sink doesn't work for some reason, and what each others' favorite tea flavors are after enough evenings huddled over warm mugs and staringly longingly at our very fake fireplace. Carrie likes Cinnamon Apple, Chandra likes Green, and I like whatever other fruity flavor is out by the fridge. And the fridge - that's another hot topic, especially the handle and the lack of (or overenthusiastic) organization we have in there. The quirks are coming out and the common bond of so few of us living together is developing and noticable. I love it.
I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm stressed, I'm frustrated, but I am happy. I have a lot of good things in my life and countless relationships to be thankful for. And that's what keeps me going.
Battling breezy negative-degree temperatures, I struggled my way to class this morning, frigid and tired and irritable. As I walked up the stairs to my morning class, triumphantly tugging my scarf with the air of one who has SURVIVED and done it 10 minutes earlier than usual, I head for the door but stop short at the threshold - a pink flyer on the door cordially informs me that class is cancelled for today, please be sure to read the required material.
Figures.
So now I'm in the library, taking a break from my desperate quarter-long game of catch-up. I'm making it sound too dramatic, but I do feel like a little kid walking hand-in-hand with dad, my strides just a little too short to keep up with his, every couple of steps forced to jog a little to catch-up. Yeah, I know, me and my legs are short so I should be used to this, but you know what I mean. I have to choose which times I want to hangout with my friends more and sacrafice the other opportunities so I can stay on top of my homework, but I guess that's part of the package deal of growing up. Why did I want to grow up so fast again?
At least I feel more at home in my new house. 4 weeks, 1 party, and an orange room later, I feel more comfortable both with my roommates and the house itself. All the little decorative touches have been hung in the front room, a brilliant and friendly shade of orange that is amazing in candlelight, which was done just in time for our smashingly successful housewarming party. True, there were some interesting moments, my favorite mopping up puke from the staircase (not front steps but stairs right outside my bedroom), but it was a good time.
Carrie Chandra and I now know that the kitchen is the coldest room in the house, that we can't have too many things on in the study room at once without tripping the circuit, that the upper outlet by the sink doesn't work for some reason, and what each others' favorite tea flavors are after enough evenings huddled over warm mugs and staringly longingly at our very fake fireplace. Carrie likes Cinnamon Apple, Chandra likes Green, and I like whatever other fruity flavor is out by the fridge. And the fridge - that's another hot topic, especially the handle and the lack of (or overenthusiastic) organization we have in there. The quirks are coming out and the common bond of so few of us living together is developing and noticable. I love it.
I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm stressed, I'm frustrated, but I am happy. I have a lot of good things in my life and countless relationships to be thankful for. And that's what keeps me going.
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