It's Called DEAD Week, People.

At last, the end is near. Starting next week, no classes - just finals. And since this week is the last full week of the semester, and the last before finals, it is affectionately called 'Dead Week.'

Why is this, you ask? Simple. During 'Dead Week', professors aren't supposed to assign you any work so you can focus on your finals. All the studying is supposed to 'kill' you, hence 'Dead Week.' It's also supposed to be really boring, since no one REALLY studies until the weekend anyway.

Well, apparently no one thought to inform the Honors program professors about the wonders of Dead Week, because they all decided to pile on more crap than ever before. Civilization? Panel presentations on sixteenth century England and a primary source analysis paper on 'historical change'. Humanities? Yet another panel presentation linking philosophy, history, and literature. And since all of these are worth a SIGNIFICANT portion of our grades, it can definitely be said that I am DEAD this week - but not from studying. Oh, no. Dead from exhaustion, due to projects.

Curse you, Dead Week. Curse you.

It Smelled Like Paradise. :D

Today was a good day. (And by today, I guess I technically mean yesterday, because it's now after midnight. Whatevs.)

Now, if you'd asked me around five o'clock if I thought it would turn out to be a good day, I would have said HELL NO. Emi and I went to Cleveland this weekend to visit a friend of hers, which was all well and good except for the five hour drive, so we woke up at nine (approximately an hour earlier than the time I actually become coherent) and hopped in the car for the rest of the day. And even though the company was great, spending that much time in a car is not fun.

I also had a Civilization paper due tomorrow. Well, today I guess. (Don't give me that look, I already finished it. No, I'm not procrastinating by writing this.) Ewwwww.

Anyway, Emily and I had a lot of crap to move out of her car and into the dorm, so we parked illegally while we unloaded, and then went back out to move her car so she didn't get a ticket. :) Oh, and Anne came out with us. As we walked out to the curb, one of the landscapers working on the front lawn asked us if we were leaving and going to be back anytime soon.

It turns out there's some really important person coming to campus Tuesday (don't ask me who, no one tells me anything) and they were on a deadline and didn't have time to go grab Gatorade, and could we maybe run and get some for him and his workers? He paid us five dollars (woo...?) and we had nothing better to do, so he wrote down what they wanted and handed me some money.

Correction. He handed me a one-hundred-dollar bill.

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to pee myself. See, I'm a broke college kid... and I've never held a one-hundred-dollar bill. Benjamin Franklin's face had never looked so beautiful. No, it wasn't really my money, and yes, we had to give him the change back. But for the twenty minutes it took for us to get to Walmart and grab some Gatorade, that $100 was in MY wallet. :D

Emily and Anne were making fun of me because I took a picture with it. But hey, these opportunities don't come around often. And besides, I happen to LIKE money.

-dies-

It's so. Friggin. Hot.

-dies-

Don't get me wrong, I love the sun. It makes me happy. I wish we could just skip over winter entirely, because the rest of the year is fun. Now, the seasonal allergies thing, not so much, but I'm willing to overlook that in favor of actually being able to go outside without so much insulation you feel like the love child of Frosty the Snowman and the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Here's the thing, though: somewhere between winter and summer, there's this lovely little season called spring. Did you hear that, schizophrenic Kentucky weather? SPRING.

Seriously. Two weeks ago we were all freezing our tails off here on campus. (See? I have no tail.) And now all of a sudden it's eighty-five degrees. Which would be awesome and all, if my dorm would turn the air conditioning on. Since they've apparently decided that air conditioning isn't necessary, it's STIFLING in here. All the windows are open, but still. And going outside in favor of being able to breathe means that you scorch off your entire epidermis. Sigh.

So, in protest, I have written this Declaration of Indignation. (For those of you who didn't already see it on my Facebook status, that is. I'm looking at you, Mom and Dad. :D)

We, the people of Sullivan Hall, in order to form a more perfect dormitory, establish respiration, ensure a decent temperature, provide for the common inhabitability, promote the general cleanliness, and secure the blessings of comfortability to ourselves and our roommates, do ordain and establish this plea for you to TURN THE FRIGGIN AIR CONDITIONING ON.

It's a work in progress, but hey, whatever.