College: Celebration and Sorrow.

One of the most beautiful things about college, is that if you arrange your schedule as such, you can have a three day weekend, EVERY weekend. Friday classes are for freshmen who don’t know better, and upperclassmen who couldn’t get out of it; but, as for me and my friends, we will only consent to four days of education a week. Thus was born “Celebrate Thursday,” a wonderful tradition that can only be defined as something like, “Friday, part one.”
Celebrate Thursday can range from anything to a midnight meal in Amarillo, to initiating middle school prank-wars on one another, to watching episode after episode of Gilmore Girls, to playing Dr. Mario on original nintendo, to jamming to young boss, and almost always drinking the nectar of the gods
I love that part of college. 
I dare say, I love most parts. 
Classes might be early, but I almost always get a laugh, or a nugget of knowledge and sometimes both, (unless it’s science in which case I walk away knowing and laughing less than when I entered). I’m an RA in Ruth Cross Hall, and it’s the greatest job in the entire world, hanging out with and taking care of the 3rd floor girls. The caf is a great place to meet up with everyone from multiple dorms, and play childish pranks on one another with salt in the napkin holders. 

But as in most things, there is a flip side.  A sorrowful nemesis.  An evil twin. 
With all this freedom, and fun there is a certain level of doom and responsibility. 

Laundry Day.

Laundry Day.

After approximately one month of avoiding my hamper like it had a disease I finally broke down today and dragged two trash bags full of dirty clothes down the stairs of Cross Hall and into a deserted laundry room. 
My clothes, dating back to somewhere around September 9th and 10th, seem to have been multiplying since then like little bunnies, and I took up 5 washing machines out of 6. Undergarments, t-shirts, jeans, sweatshirts, and tank tops each had their own rinse cycle. 3 hours, 4 drying machines, 6 trips up and down the stairs, and too many mismatched socks later I’ve finally completed this callous ritual. 
A friend once told me “Pairing my socks after I do laundry is the worst part of college. It’s awful and it makes me want to drop out.” 
Though my friend might be  bit of a drama queen, he is right about the evils of laundry.

The freedoms of college outweigh this evil, but only because after a year and a half I’ve discovered the secret to good living….
Avoid Friday classes, and hold out doing laundry until Thanksgiving so Mom will do it.

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