10 a.m.: I wake up, filled with both vim and vigor and also an irrepressible desire to eat my body weight in gummy worms, an urge that I have been feeling increasingly often and it’s starting to disturb me. There’s nothing in gelatin that’s bad, right? It’s not like I’m eating, I don’t know, the bones of cows, or something?
10:10 a.m.: A quick Google reveals that I am, in fact, eating the bones of cows. I’m like the giant at the top of the beanstalk, except instead of crushing humans, I just bolster the annual income of the Haribo company.
10:11 a.m.: I do a quick calculation and realize that I have eaten over 1,000 cow bones in my life. I have an existential crisis.
10:12 a.m.: I recover from my crisis, and go downstairs to guzzle some more cow bones.
12 p.m.: My friends and I leave for Vassar, pretty sure that we will “beat the storm.” You know what ELSE helps you beat the storm? Not waiting until the day before classes start when the weather forecast looks like something out of a particularly unpleasant bible verse about the end of the world.
12:30 p.m.: We stop at a Dunkin Donuts. I order some hashbrowns (read: 24 hashbrowns) which, normally a side, I have decided to turn into a full fledged meal. This brings the total of what I have eaten today to a pack of gummy worms and 24 hashbrowns. If anyone is concerned about my diet, I would like to tell you not to worry—I supplement all the “unhealthy food” and “disgustingly sugary candy” (whatever, Mom) with an unreasonable amount of peanut butter. Once, I ate a piece of broccoli and the next day I had a headache, so I think that makes it pretty clear that all vegetables make me violently ill and eating them should be avoided at all costs. Don’t you worry about me.
4 p.m.: We arrive at Vassar, which gives me this nice warm feeling of being home and ready for my last semester. I step out of the car and immediately all warmth is gone, because it is colder than Prince Joffrey’s heart outside. Winter has ARRIVED, friends.
4:05 p.m.: I realize that the bedbugs that have plagued me since October of last semester are still chilling in my room. Or, more to the point, not chilling. If they had really chilled, they would be frozen and dead. I have never wanted something to die so badly in my life. I have literally constructed the world’s tiniest voodoo insect dolls and have been burning them in effigy once a week, every week.
4:15 p.m.: My housemates and I decide that the only possible choice is to put my bed outside and try to freeze them. My bed is Russia, and the bedbugs are the invading German soldiers. YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT, BED BUGS. YOU TRY AND STAY IN THERE, SUCKERS.
4:30 p.m.: It comes to my attention that I no longer have a bed. So. Kind of seems like the bed bugs just won.
5:00 p.m.: I debate sleeping in the laundry room and hoping that the machines running will keep me warm all night.
5:30 p.m.: I try to sleep standing up. Just to see if I can. I can’t. Which is weird because I can sleep literally almost anywhere at any time.
6:00 p.m.: I start doing my class readings a week ahead of time in the hope that they have their usual Pavlovian effect. Instead, they just make me hungry. Too hungry to sleep. Just hungry enough, in fact, to eat like 10 more cow bones.
9:30 p.m.: I decide that all of these things are unreasonable options and just push the two couches in our living room together. I wish I had thought of this 5 hours ago.