When I called my mom to warn her about the impending UberEats charge because I would “rather die than eating the DUC chicken one more time,” I didn’t actually mean it. When I contemplated dumping a stranger’s wet clothes onto the ground to free up washer space, I was never going to actually do it. When my bare ass accidentally touched the communal shower wall and I started calculating the financial burden of paying for an apartment as well as my dorm room just so I could move out early, I never thought it would ever actually happen.
But now, in the middle of my spring break, right after I got back from frolicking joyfully in the ocean, Emory emailed me to tell me to pack my shit and get out. I still have sauce packets, carefully collected since August, hoarded on a shelf waiting to be used. Tomorrow, they will need to be thrown out. My desk is still sticky from where I left the half consumed bottle of Bacardi from my most recent pregame. It’ll have to be poured down the drain soon. The condoms in my cabinet have most definitely been untouched for too long, and it appears they’ll be staying that way for quite some time. I can’t have sex via Zoom, just as I can’t participate in my Film production course via Zoom. Still trying to figure out how that’s gonna work.
When I return in August, and Corona is as distant a memory as failing QTM, I’ll be moving into an apartment for the first time. And while I am excited for no more accidental nip slips on the walk to the communal bathrooms, no more mysteriously “missing” clothes, and food that is properly seasoned, I didn’t want all these things to come to an end in March. I would’ve kept soaking the chicken in ketchup and choking it down if I had known the alternative was for my professor to see me in my stained pajama shirt, but that’s Hollywood baby.
Enjoy your extended spring break and your “unofficially open note” online exams. Stay safe.
Canvas has a setting to require the use of webcams during exams.