Why? You may ask.
Why on earth would you bring all your shit with you to class.
Well comrades, sit back in your comfy desk chair and you shall come to know a story of great and terrifying woe, a tale of love loss and mortality, A tale of illegal living and spandex in too many places to count.
Get ready.
First let's rewind. The scene is LW, 2:35 pm. Yours truly has just gotten back from the Harvard Yale race and it's aftermath. Everyone's all a-gone to london. Everyone but me. The problem with this particular situation is that dumb me forgot to get the stupid keys from Taylor before she got on the plane.
The other problem is that 403 elm is a rather difficult place to break into. good for the tennants, bad for an amature lock picker.
At this point i'm freaking out and trying to figure out where the hell to live for four days and considering the following options.
1. locker room in the gym
2. alternating people's couches
3. the green
I decide on the gym. After all, we practically live there during winter training and it's probably cleaner than many people's futons.
seriously.
problem is the gym is closed.
of course.
ok, shit, what do i do now?? i'm thinkin RTH, the building next door where the coach's offices are, there's an extra classroom where maybe i can crash or at least put all of my stuff.
everythings locked...foiled again.
i stash a bag behind a couch in the second floor conference room and move on. at the time it seems like a good move.
ok so now i have literally nowhere to live.
time to call matt barber, purveyer of all things rational and all-together logically thinking person.
at this point i'm literally just trying not to go all turrets on the innocent bystanders.
matt says he's gonna see what he can do.
i'm trying to move my shit out of LW before the security people wonder why entryway C is being propped open by a pillow and empty box of muscle milk.
phoebe offers me the corner of her common room as a dumping ground for my various bags.
i check the forecast and pathetic fallacy prevails.
rain is on the calender for tomorrow.
...obviously.
all i want to do right now. seriously, ALL i want to do, is rock slowly in the fetal position while eating large quantities of chocolate.
then suddenly... a light at the end of the tunnel.
vince, who is now in my books as some sort of goddam messiah, lets me use his room for the week.
HELLS YEAH.
problem is, i can't get in until tomorrow.
and all my shiznat still has to be out by tonight.
the one bag's already stashed in RTH, but there are about seven hundred other small containers that need to be moved as well.
three go to phoebe in the fifth floor of saybrook,
one gets stashed in the back part of the tanks through an open window,
and my suitcase, bedding, and large pile of dirty clothes get taken to my classroom under cover of darkness at 6am.
class starts at 9:00. and i'm home free.
vaguely related, i haven't showered since friday.
no biggie.
the moral of the story?
the class of god works in mysterious ways.
and when the school offers housing, just freaking pay for it.
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