The first day of my final semester of college.
Actually, I got off a bit lucky. My only class of the day was cancelled due to the professor being in Canada, so I don’t actually have classes until tomorrow. Due to this luxury, I decided to extend my break by a day. So, while all my friends and roommates were busy moving in on Sunday night, I was at home eating cheesecake, watching the Golden Globes, and reading brain candy into the wee hours.
This morning, I got up early, threw my bags in the car, and made the three and a half hour drive back to the frigid prairie. I arrived at my tiny little on-campus apartment around noon to find it pretty much empty. No roommates to be found. (Well, Katie was there briefly, but then had class.) Taking advantage of the solitude, I unpacked and settled in.
Wanting to stay on top of things, I went to pick up my textbooks at the bookstore. Immediately, I regretted it all. The box was HEAVY. My arms were already tired from hauling all my luggage from the car to the apartment and didn’t appreciate the extra load. It was a struggle getting from one side of campus to the other. There are only so many ways to carry a massive box, so despite constant shifting, my muscles had no break. I finally made it back to the apartment, dropped the box on my bed, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Then I opened it.
22 books and a Shakespeare anthology.
I AM GOING TO DIE.
But, hey. It’s my final semester, so I might as well take advantage of the last opportunity I have to kill myself with literature.