I was accepted to the University of Michigan today.
I found out around eight this evening. My mother called me at work, admitted to opening my mail, and then said I had been accepted. So I didn’t have to wait until April after all.
I guess I’m excited. I get to go to the school of my limited-realistic dreams. I’ll be living within minutes of my boyfriend instead of hours. I will be able to mock Nick to his face instead of across hundreds of miles, and engage in hockey stick battles on a semi-daily basis. Bacardi will flow like water, and there shall not remain a shell of pasta in all of Michigan when I am done grocery shopping for myself. And beware the future dearth of bagels in the greater Ann Arbor area come next Fall. I apologize in advance.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m fuckin’ thrilled.
Anyway, today was pretty blah besides the good news. Went to school after watching the tv for those excruciating five minutes waiting to see if West Ottawa High School was closed. It wasn’t. The garage door was still frozen shut, or something to that extent, so I was unable to drive my own vehicle to school. I took Adam’s Integra instead. It is in no way similar to my car. Yes, both are manual transmission. His car is without the whole hydraulic clutch thing, so I was thrown into a crash course on how to drive “normal” stick shift cars. After a few miles I got used to it.
Talked about removing colons in second hour this morning. Watched a video describing and showing numerous pictures of the digestive process. Reminded me of that time I had to drink Barium. Mmmm, radioactive goodness.
Had Burger King for lunch. The fries were shockingly yellow. Is that normal? Maybe I shouldn’t ask.
Took the usual afternoon nap before heading off to Pfaltzgraff at 4:30 for work. The night passed quickly. I got the good news, my brother and dad came in bearing a bottle of Dr Pepper as a congratulatory gift. My brother spilled it all over the floor. I mopped it up half an hour later.
I can’t wait to go to college.
I think I’ll miss my cat. I mean, I love my family,
but they can’t compare to an overloved, senile,
decrepit old feline named Bean.
He once donated his fur for one of my art inspirations.
How many mothers would give their hair to their children?
Exactly.
I think we know who the winner is.