I am one major test and two essays away from Thanksgiving break. Then it’s smooth sailing to THE CHRISTMAS MUSIC THAT HAS FOR SO LONG ELUDED ME!
I feel like I could write a book about the combined shenanigans of my hall mates. There was the microwave incident, for one thing. But there’s more. A group of them gets together every night, and they actually coordinate four-part harmonies in the showers. Yeah. I do not kid. They huddle outside the communal bathroom and say, “Is everybody here? All right, let’s do it!” and they each snag separate showers and start singing. And I’ll be brushing my teeth while they all sing “Danny Boy.” Do they sound good? No, they do not sound good. This might be because the acoustics are terrible. I don’t want to judge on their actual singing voices, because songs are regularly interrupted by flushing toilets.
As we round the corner into the second semester, I’m trying to pick classes, and French is literally chipping away at my soul. Hey, want to take a class about the trials and tribulations of Harry Potter? No, I’m sorry, you’ve got French at that time. Care to take an actual, literal class about video games and why they’re so much fun to play? Too bad, you have French. Don’t bother trying to take anything that caters to your specific interests. Why? Because FRENCH. Gah!
BUT STILL. Fourteen days until December! Two weeks! TWO WEEKS! A fortnight, if you will! A freaking fortnight!