Moving Out
It's amazing what happens around here this time of year. Sure, it's finals week, but unlike in December, things are bright and cheerful (and approximately 162.3 degrees). Why? The weather's getting nicer and more consistent, our classes are ending, and our fridges are defrosting in preparation for us going home to our mommies. Or at least going elsewhere.
The part that I have to laugh at is the general progression of, well, crap in the hallways. Walking down to a friend's room, you'll see an entire disassembled loft leaning against the wall. Fifteen minutes later, it's gone, but down the hall there's a stack of boxes and a chair. Then, that disappears, only to be replaced by three trash bags and a broken fan.
A whole dorm is emptying, the dumpsters are filling, and the parking lot is slowly clearing. After eight months and some weeks of sweat, tears, and drunken hazes, we're taking our break, trying to build up enough money to survive the next semester's fleecing (a.k.a. "Gotta buy books again").
All of this only to come back again.
The part that I have to laugh at is the general progression of, well, crap in the hallways. Walking down to a friend's room, you'll see an entire disassembled loft leaning against the wall. Fifteen minutes later, it's gone, but down the hall there's a stack of boxes and a chair. Then, that disappears, only to be replaced by three trash bags and a broken fan.
A whole dorm is emptying, the dumpsters are filling, and the parking lot is slowly clearing. After eight months and some weeks of sweat, tears, and drunken hazes, we're taking our break, trying to build up enough money to survive the next semester's fleecing (a.k.a. "Gotta buy books again").
All of this only to come back again.
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