For the next couple of days Bwog will be unrolling our daily schedules to give the ED admits to the Class of 2018 a slightly…different…view of the typical Columbian. Up today, another anonymous staffer details her usual Sunday.
1:02 pm: Roll out of bed and vow never to drink again. I chug an entire Nalgene of water and wake up my roommate when I accidentally drop it on the floor mid-gulp.
1:04 pm: Wonder if I’m still drunk from last night. Try to gauge motor-control. Worry about life choices.
1:06 pm: Wonder if it’s possible to be drunk and hungover at the same time. Also, fervently hope the hangover will go away soon.
1:21 pm: It doesn’t. And shit, how did it get so late? I ignore my throbbing head and make my way to the shower.
1:35 pm: Hop out of the shower feeling slightly less nauseous and slightly more clean.
1:37 pm: Notice that one of my shoes from last night is missing. How the hell…?
1:38 pm: Begin search for my missing shoe. Tear apart all 175 square feet of my room because there really aren’t that many places it could be hiding, right? …right?
1:56 pm: Admit defeat in search for missing shoe. I’m simultaneously worried about myself and impressed that I somehow made it home with one shoe.
1:57 pm: Vow to never drink again.
2:02 pm: Make a bowl of cereal and think about how much my head still hurts.
2:13 pm: Stress about the five papers I have due in the next week and the fact that finals are no longer an abstract idea. Decide to blow off some steam by watching an episode of 30 Rock on Netflix.
3:45 pm: Realize with a start that it’s 3:45 pm and all I’ve done with my day is shower and lose a shoe. Throw all your worldly possessions into a bag and hustle to Butler.
3:55 pm: Look for a seat.
4:00 pm: Look for a seat.
4:10 pm: Look for a seat. Fuck finals. Mentally call everyone who has a seat mean names.
4:13 pm: FINALLY find a spot on the fourth floor. The guy sitting next to me smells really weird and the girl across from me is boiling water to make ramen noodles (AT THE DESK), but no force in the world could move me from this goddamn spot.
4:15 pm: Open Facebook.
4:25 pm: Close Facebook and take out a book by my dead-white-man of choice. Bunker down.
8:42 pm: Realize I didn’t have dinner. Buy chips from Butler Café and worry about my health.
11:21 pm: Leave Butler, looking and feeling like a complete zombie.
11:23 pm: Run into that one person I always see when I’m leaving Butler and looking like an undead creature. Wonder if they think I always look this way. Wonder if I actually do always look this way. Wonder if I smell like the fourth floor (i.e. ass). Curse the universe.
11:33 pm: Make myself some pasta and attempt to finish my reading while I eat. Fail. Decide to watch more 30 Rock instead. It’s reading week, it’s justified (right?).
1:16 am: Pass out on my bed, wondering where the hell the weekend went.
Netflix puppy via Wikimedia Commons.