In a day too full of responsibilities, some conquered, some forgotten–I take great joy in the little things. Maybe it’s procrastination, or as I like to call it, sanity preservation. But I find it more and more necessary. You’d think two days after spring break you wouldn’t be feeling a whole lot of pressure. ‘Tis the life of a college student. (sigh) Am I done yet?

Tonight I turned the radio up loud and recalled the days when I drove a burgundy ’88 Mustang and thought I was so cool. Tomorrow morning I’ll drag myself out of bed when my roommate gets up and pretend I’m in shape. I want to run by the railroad tracks. I’ve never been over there before. Today I walked around with a green fabric folder, outlined in brown leather, handing resumes and applications to secretaries who nodded and smiled so politely. I talked to my dad on the phone tonight, and heard myself say that it’s spring break and I don’t have to think. I didn’t think while I played Nintendo tonight, while I finished off the flat 2 liter of Pepsi, or while I walked back to my dorm, past the silent and empty freshman dorms. This afternoon when I needed a title I couldn’t think, and later this evening when I had to gut a perfectly good essay for a choice sample I couldn’t think either. I let my roommate do it. Maybe it’s not that I don’t have to think over spring break, but that I can’t. Or maybe I’m just lazy. At the tire store I couldn’t remember my own phone number. The guy behind the counter forgot how to type, so I didn’t feel so dumb. I noticed that the cord to his keyboard was exceptionally dirty. It was supposed to be computer beige, but it was dirt brown. How does your keyboard cord get dirty? It’s not like you take it outside to play. And who touches the cord with their dirty fingers, leaving smudges of grit and grime? Then there were those two boys, motoring around the store while their father stood at the counter in a suit and tie. He was taking them to the golf store next door while they balanced his tires. They erupted in cries of joy and made one more lap around the store before heading for the door. We were hoping to fix a leaky tire. Patch it for $19.95 and hope it makes it through the summer. We ended up needing four new tires for $219.95, or something like that. One tire had a nail, and it was bald, like my dad. Another tire had a nail, but it wasn’t leaking yet. It was getting bald, like I will in a few years. A third tire was bald too, and it was beginning to separate like the pancake that always sticks to the pan. The fourth might have been okay, although it was in the replacement range. And you just don’t buy three new tires and stumble along with one treadbare wheel.

It’s spring break, and I just don’t think I need to think anymore. Pretty lazy pondering, huh? Yeah, but what are you going to do? Seriously though, I noticed tonight that what I’m reading influences how much thinking I’m doing. Whenever I’m doing some leisure reading I find that I think a lot more. When it comes time to sit down in front of the computer and pound out a thought for the day, I have a lot more to say when I’ve been doing some leisure reading. It’s probably pretty obvious, but I haven’t been doing too much leisure reading the past few days.

Ever have one of those days where it seems like the best thing to do is take a nap? Today was one of those days. So I’m not too sure what I’m sitting down to tell you tonight. Take a nap, maybe that’s it. Sometimes we could all use a nap, even if we’re not in preschool anymore. It’s kind of fun how similar college and preschool or elementary school are. Simple things never cease to please, you enjoy TV shows no one else understands, and a nap is more a necessity than a luxury.

It is everyone’s responsibility and calling in life to take out the trash and the recycling. I fulfilled my calling in life this morning.

2:20 in the morning and my eyes blink at the clock repeatedly. Random thoughts of tomorrow’s responsibilities come and go, and I can’t seem to latch on to any of them. Perhaps it’s time to call it quits. It’s been a long, successful day, and the moment I woke up and smacked my alarm seems like last week. Not only did I score a winning broom ball goal, but I made an essay sing. There’s nothing like crawling into bed and knowing you’ve accomplished something during the day.

Sometimes just before I go to bed I can’t tell if I’m hungry or if I’m tired. Should I stay up later to eat something, thereby satisfying my hunger and risking the digestion process keeping me awake (although sometimes it has the opposite effect)? Or should I just go to bed, get plenty of rest, and wake up in the morning dying for breakfast?

Some nights I just don’t have a lot to say.

Bad news? Is it bad news? It’s bad news, isn’t it? It’s always bad news when you say it like that.

You can really ruin your day when you let your assumptions go too far. Don’t do that.

It was good news, by the way. Really good news.

I rolled over this morning as my roommate walked in the door. He realized I was awake and asked if I’d been outside yet. I was half awake, and mumbled something resembling ‘no.’ He kept talking: It snowed last night. It’s still coming down. There’s an inch and a half on the ground. Before he finished the last sentence I was out of bed and half way across the room. The curtains flew open and there, in all its white glory, was the first snow of the year.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

I wake up in the morning and stumble into the bathroom. I’m still rubbing the crud from my eyes. My jolly roommate watches me walk in and makes some happy comment. Running my hand through my tangled mop of hair, I grab my towel and head for the shower, not even giving his comment the respect of a reply.

Why do I have to be such a jerk some days? Granted I had an excuse. It was early and I was tired. Grumpyness is a forgivable sin before 9:00 am. But I have to admit that it doesn’t end there. I don’t turn into a happy and well adjusted individual come 9:00 am. I’m still easily on edge. I worked with you on that one project, and you butchered my idea. You’re a manager, and you don’t know what you’re doing. All day long snide little comments echo in my head, bitter little jabs at this person or that person. Luckily they’re just in my head. But who am I to say such things? It’s just a silly project–get over it. You’re not the manager–don’t worry about it.

Sometimes I think I walk around with my head so largely inflated I’m lucky I can even get through the door. I’ve somehow latched on to the idea that I’m better, that my ideas rule, that I know how to do everything. Since when did I get so important? Loving and serving others involves forgetting about yourself. Some days I think I just need to wash some feet.