Friday Night (insert emoticon here)

Note to reader: this was originally typed on a tiny iPhone screen while watching How I Met Your Mother, deciding to do something, and taking a shower. Unfortunately, it didn't save, or post. #fridaynightproblems

Hence the re typing. And the tardiness. Better late than never!

It's Friday night in a college town and I'm a college student - so that should mean something, right? Well maybe. It's 8:15 and that awkward time in between when college dining halls close and college students have cocktail hour (5pm? Hell no, we do 10). So I'm trying to figure out what to do now.

At the moment, I'm currently indulging in what we will call the Netflix Pastime, also known as sitting in your sweatpants and consuming large quantities of questionably decent television. Preferably while eating leftover pizza. It's my sister's birthday today (Happy Birthday C!) so in honor of her and her two cats, Barney and Marshall, I've started watching How I Met Your Mother. While I prefer Marshall in his feline form, Barney definitely takes the cake as my favorite character on the show - his combination of optimism, humor, troop-rallying, and a certain level of pathetic stupidity is delightful, evidently. I'm on episode 8 already.

Now it's 8:35 and I'm making moves towards doing something with this fine evening. Socializing is a human activity I should potentially make more of an effort to engage in, so I prepare to shower by pulling off a sock. After which I find myself distracted by the fascinating pile of things I should really deal with on my bed, and worry about getting them all taken care of. My Friday night starts to look like that of a depressive and single 40 year old woman, and I contemplate pulling out the white wine, but it takes a turn toward messy 21 year old boy when I slam that last slice of leftover pizza and decide that it is time to rage. Upon reflection, this may or may not be a wildly accurate description of the way most college students act, at least in Hanover NH.

We'll all grow up one day, I'm sure. But for now, in my senior spring, I'm going to channel my inner 21 year old boy, and make the most of my (fleeting) desire to be social. Growing up can wait. Better late than never, right?

Maggie