Good ol’ McBizzle.

This summer, floors 1, 7, and 8 of McBain—the notoriously disgusting but charming sophomore dorm—were completely renovated. A former penthouse resident, Anna Hotter, visited her old home and has a lot of feelings about it.

Do you remember that 2007 rom-com with Dane Cook and Jessica Alba, where every woman who sleeps with the Dane Cook character finds the love of her life right after? You don’t? Well congratulations, this is why you will probably end up making more money than me. Anyways, I am kind of like Dane Cook—not in the fun sex way, but in the way that every floor I live on at Columbia gets renovated after I move out.

John Jay 14? Renovated. McBain 8? Renovated. For those of you who are already thinking about next year’s housing, I am currently living on Wien 8. I’m telling you, it’s a curse. But while I could just sit here and complain, I decided to seek emotional closure and check out what’s new on my beloved McBocho.

I didn’t have to wait long to have my spirits crushed. As I walked into the building, expecting to be greeted by the usual bouquet of bodily secretions, I found a new welcome area that made me feel—dare I say it—welcome. The security desk is bigger, and there is a new lounge with a surprisingly tasteful colour scheme and whimsical, worm-shaped furniture (see gallery). They even installed one of those fancy living walls, and put up spotlights to properly showcase it. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of stuff living in my walls, but it wasn’t an accent-lighting kind of situation.

After looking at the new laundry room (big), study spaces (small, but nice), and gym (actually about the same as before), I went upstairs. The elevator still moved at a glacial pace, which made me feel a little bit better, until I got off on 8. The walls were so white that I was temporarily blinded. Was I dying? I don’t really believe in heaven, but for a moment that’s where it felt like I was. As my eyes adjusted, I started to actually notice all the exciting changes. The doors are now dark and glossy, which is a definite step up from the chipped-off blue that made it look like a rabid animal was trying to claw its way inside. There are signs with directions to the different rooms (because god forbid you get lost in a circular hallway), and, most importantly, new bathrooms and a new kitchen.

Living on McBocho was a lot like camping. With our limited access to fresh drinking water, proper sanitation, and ceilings, we were often forced to compromise on personal hygiene or sleep. Not any more. The new bathrooms are not only gender neutral, which is a huge step forward for Columbia in general, but also clean-looking and private. One resident complained that because many of them don’t have windows, it can get a little steamy in the hallway, which is adorable. Even though there are fewer bathrooms than before the renovation (I counted seven), the resident hadn’t seen any serious lines.

Finally, I went to look for the new kitchen and lounge. As I rounded one of the clean, inviting new corners, I realized that I had made a huge mistake. You see, my room used to be next to the floor lounge. My double. My limited living space, which I shared with another human person. That living space has since been converted into a single. I had to take a moment to process this, before I was able to face the new kitchen.

That said, it is magnificent. The walls are a definitive, discernible shade that is, for once, not in the barf-family. There are tiles, chairs, and—gasp—a new microwave. I could actually see myself cooking or working here, which certainly wasn’t the case when I would wade through a sea of literal garbage or dried fire extinguisher fluid to reach what friends assured me was a sink.

Walking back to the elevator I felt both regretful and nostalgic. Little is left of the damp cavern we called our home; the space seems artificial, and without Vings or doorstops, none of the doors were left open. But, while they may have scraped off the mold, changed the carpet, and installed functioning showers, they couldn’t paint over our memories. McBocho lives on in our hearts.