dorm life

I forgot this gem!

I am really happy that this may have been my last weekend in the George Washington dorms.

Example: I try really hard to eat well, despite the challenges of having no real grocery store, very few cooking utensils and a kitchen that's about 200 feet from my room (a typical dinner requires me to run back and forth at least three times, and that's on a good day).

I know I've done well when young men start collecting in the hallway, drawn by the smell of food. It's hilariously predictable. Last week one wandered in while I was making some kind of ratatouille thing, and asked if the dorm provided any cooking utensils. I said no, and to be polite, asked if he'd just moved in. "No," he said, "I've been here for three weeks; I just haven't cooked anything yet." And he stared sort of mournfully at me. I smiled, covered the pot, and ran away.

Tonight, even better: curry. Different guy comes in; some Texas douchebag who I've talked to once: "Oooh, that looks good. What have you been up to? (feigns interest in my life while staring intently at the percolating garbanzo beans) Yeah. I'm recovering; my birthday was the other night and now I'm 23ohyeaharen'tyouinyour thirties, ha ha, oh yeah...wow, that's a lot of curry." And stares meaningfully at me. Wow.

As I'm running away, another guy pops out into the hall -- "Hey, that smells good!" he wails after me.

So, yeah. Dorms are not as delightful a place to be when you're "in your thirties." ?$!#$#%@