For a variety of reasons that have to do with well, a variety of reasons, I am spending today at UnWed Mothers, as my father so wittingly calls it. (Eh, he doesn’t donate to the alumni fund, what does it matter?) I’ve still got about two hours left (Hopefully less- I don’t know a single professor that wants to go the whole damn lecture time on the first day of a summer class…but this is also the guy who willingly went to the Arctic for a few months. Clearly he’s not sane.) and already I’ve had SO MANY EXPERIENCES.
We began the day by being enchanted by the swarms of College For Kids kids around campus. Back in the day when Morena was a Little Morena, Rockford would send her and Little Imladris to College For Kids. Oh, the imperial fun we had. Pretending to hold up Curtin Hall while Erin Shanley laid underneath it, having lunch, learning about the atmosphere, having lunch, playing magic tricks with the kindergarten teacher from St. Eugene’s, having lunch outside…
(Little Morena really enjoyed eating lunch. Especially when it was a sub. Ironically, I never go to City Subs now. But damn did I love it when I was little!)
The Tsarevitch and Rockford would cool their heels in the “munion” as Tsarevitch would call it for what seemed hours but I’m sure was like 45 minutes in reality.
Also, I didn’t pay for the tuition.
Then we arrived at the Grind, and I discovered my deeply disturbing almost Pavlovian response to school and muffins. I think it must have come from the Concordia days, but whenever I’m at school, I need a muffin. I didn’t particularly want a muffin this morning (any more than I ALWAYS want a muffin), but I was at school! Clearly I needed one!
And you know what? IT WAS GOOD.
After licking the crumbs off the table (What? It’s summer. There’s no one here!) I did some internet stuff I’ve been meaning to do for like weeks but I haven’t because when I’m home I turn into a Facebook drone, staring numbly at the screen as I wait for some girl I went to grade school with to post pictures of her semester abroad and maybe she’ll be drunk in some of them. It’s really hard to do that in an open computer lab, because it makes stalking feel more like stalking and constantly refreshing your own page? Just makes you look narcissistic.
Then I decided that I’m almost positively majoring in Jewish Studies at least as soon as I get up the courage to ask the Religious Studies woman for a dropped major form and that’s currently freaking me out because she’s a scary, scary woman who makes children and quite possibly Jesus weep.
All that soul-searching and career changing kind of jacked me up, so I went for a walk. Kind of roaming, because I didn’t want to get too far west or south because I’m a chicken little white girl from Grafton. When I ended up on Oakland I started walking faster. Also discovered that I’m a stupid chicken little white girl from Grafton because dude, it’s like 95 degrees outside and you just walked for an HOUR and twenty minutes? Shall we call the ambulance to rehydrate you now or wait until you actually collapse?
(I kid. I kept hydrated. With Holton Hall water, sweet nectar of the Gods.)
But then- then came the best part of the whole day. I saw- wait for it- BIG DADDY. And I’m not entirely sure he knew who I was but he smiled and asked me how I was and I had to refrain from saying, “Good! And you regrew that creepy little beard! Good call, you looked like a twelve-year-old without it!”, instead replying, “Just fine. How are you?” whilst texting the whole creepy-beard-twelve-year-old thing to Katie. Because she obviously needed to know about this RIGHT THEN.
Ahh. Methods. How I miss you.
So. Now I think I may go eat some yogurt. Who knows what else may happen?