Yesterday evening, I learned that one of my dearest friends was in town. She graduated last year and I’ve only seen her a couple of times since then.
In light of a long, antisocial Saturday, her visit was an enormous blessing. Sometimes when I’m alone for too long, I get stuck in my head and need someone to pull me back out. Allison was exactly what I needed. She popped in my apartment around six thirty, half an hour before I had to work. A few minutes of rushed conversation was not enough, so against my usual habits, I ventured forth into the social sphere after my library shift ended at ten. It was a fantastic night. Talking with her, someone who knows me deeply and has been there since freshman year, was exactly what I needed.
The problem, though, is that I was out until one in the morning the night before Hell Week. Oops.
Surprisingly, the repercussions have not been too severe. I made it through class, work, and working out without feeling overly exhausted. That hasn’t changed the fact that, whenever I enter my apartment I change from real pants to my p.j. bottoms. But I’m coping quite well.
To add to my happy thoughts, my Victorian Lit professor cancelled the nearly thirty page article we were supposed to read this week. And, as a bonus, this was his address in the email: “Dear ever-widening circle of semi-demons who batten on the helpless…“) How can that not brighten your day?
Also, my paper on verbal hashtags has been submitted and I will be finishing up my Visual Journalism portfolio is nearly complete. After today, I will be free to devote the entire week to writing my ten-page Dracula essay.
So far, so good. As long as I stay on top of things, I should make it out alive.