This weekend was the big move-in weekend at my university, so I’m writing this from my lovely new single occupancy big kid room in my sorority house. I’ve just finished hanging my new green curtains and the only thing on the wall is my map of England. I don’t even have anything in my desk drawers, but I just really want to start decorating my walls.
I could write quite a bit about the bizarreness of being a senior–of how I don’t even believe myself when I say it and of how small the freshmen look and how small I still feel, but instead, you get an anecdote.
I briefly partyboyed the president of my university.
I was required to attend the university’s start-of-term block party/dance floor with my sorority, so I was screwing around and dancing like an idiot. Air punches and humping motions and jumping and lots of other unattractive moves. And the president suddenly emerged from the crowd and walked past me, doing her little “middle aged professional woman with a decent sense of humour dances and walks” thing and I kind of air-humped her as she passed.