Bedtime: In our younger and more vulnerable years, we were given a strict bedtime. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it—when the clock struck 8 p.m., we were to begin the immutable bedtime regimen that would invariably place us comfortably under the covers by 8:30 p.m. And so it went every weekday night. We resented it then, but how little did we know! The idea of getting to bed that early is music to our ears. Like naptime, what went unappreciated in our youth has since become the unattainable goal that recedes before us hour by hour. It eludes us now, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will work harder, better, faster, stronger … and one fine evening, we shall sleep at 8:30 again.
Care Packages: You are never too old for a care package. We don’t care if you are a middle-schooler off at a week-long camp for the first time, a freshman in the first semester of college, or a world-weary senior trying to make it through the final year: you can always enjoy the wonders of a care package. What’s not to appreciate about the idea that someone out there (probably your mother, but possibly someone else) is thinking about you and cares enough about you to assemble a delightful assortment of homemade baked goods, savory treats, and some trail mix to get you through the busiest times?
Rat Infestations: And we aren’t talking about cute Pixar rats that cook, either. We are talking about the kind that are ugly and disgusting. Before we thought they only terrorized our office, but now we know better. Allegedly, there is an infestation in Ignacio. We have heard that they are occupying the sixth floor like dirty 21st century hippies occupied Wall Street not so many years ago. Those vermin are up there spreading panic and disease—who knows? They could be bringing hand, foot, and mouth disease down to Lower. And the University thought it could successfully quarantine it on Upper, where it would only affect freshmen, who, as we know, are disposable anyway.
Ants: When we return to our rooms in the wee hours of the morn after a long night of studying, the last thing we want is to find that ants have staked a claim on the northwest corner of our desk. You’d be surprised how far those ants were able to develop that claim in the few hours it had been since we had left the room. We aren’t talking about any Roanoke-colony level progress—we’re talking about full on California-after-gold-was-found development. In the beginning, there was nothing. And then James W. Marshall said, “Let there be gold.” And, indeed, there was gold. The great, unwashed masses poured into California and civilization (of a sort) arose out of nothing. That’s the kind of progress we are talking about here. So we have waged war on these ants and hope to beat them back off our desk and out of our room.
Featured Image by Breck Wills / Heights Editor