I'm back in the city after spending a portion of my March Break at home. I am not rejuvenated. I am not refreshed. I am wondering how I'm possibly going to finish all my school work in the next three weeks. A chat with one of my overachieving classmates yesterday did nothing to put me at ease. She was telling me how she had lost all her files for a project we have due on Friday. I misheard her say that all 17 pages were gone. I was like, "Wow, 17 pages." And she said, "Not 17. 70." 70 pages!! In order to maintain my sanity during this very stressful time, I like to pretend that she's actually a robot. As usual, I have not started the project yet. But as long as I can write 35 pages a day, I should be alright. This same girl is in my group for a project we have due at the end of term. I can't even imagine all the ways I'm going to disappoint her.
I couldn't possibly have done any less over March Break. My parents did some of my homework, I didn't do any. I was reunited with my least favorite family member, the cat. I accidentally let him OD on cat treats. He threw up twice in my parents room. They blamed it on all the turkey he ate. I said nothing. He'll probably never be allowed to have turkey again.
My parents returned me to the city on Friday. A quick inventory of my fridge reminded me why I was so excited to go home in the first place: All I had was some vodka and sour cream. I'm not proud of what I did next...
I'm just kidding. I went to the grocery store. It was a good trip because Nutella was on sale. It was a bad trip because I started a kiwi avalanche. Unsure of the proper supermarket etiquette for fallen fruit, I put the kiwis that I'd dropped in a bag and took them with me. Onlookers seemed satisfied that I hadn't compromised the integrity of the produce department and went about their shopping. Later on, when I found myself in a desserted aisle, I stashed the damaged goods behind the boxes of crackers. I hate people like me.
