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Unlike Arthur Dent (and Sam), I have gotten the hang of Thursdays lately.
My Shakespeare class ends at 5.00 on Thursdays, and since I have a section at 6.00, there isn't really much point in trying to go back to the dorms; I'd have to turn around and leave as soon as I got there. The last few weeks, I've started finding a bench in a quiet part of the quad, parking my butt, and taking the free hour to do some completely-non-school-related reading. I'm not sure I can imagine anything much more perfect than this: the sky so blue and huge, the tree branches green and blooming just a few feet above me, the stone walls like a cloister, the smell of the flowers and the wet earth, the sound of bees humming and squirrels chattering to each other. And then lying back with all that around me and losing myself in a story about magic and adventures and far-off seas.
Yes, it's making me a little over-poetic. But cut me a break, I spent my whole day thinking about Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson and Ursula Le Guin, and I'm only human.
My Shakespeare class ends at 5.00 on Thursdays, and since I have a section at 6.00, there isn't really much point in trying to go back to the dorms; I'd have to turn around and leave as soon as I got there. The last few weeks, I've started finding a bench in a quiet part of the quad, parking my butt, and taking the free hour to do some completely-non-school-related reading. I'm not sure I can imagine anything much more perfect than this: the sky so blue and huge, the tree branches green and blooming just a few feet above me, the stone walls like a cloister, the smell of the flowers and the wet earth, the sound of bees humming and squirrels chattering to each other. And then lying back with all that around me and losing myself in a story about magic and adventures and far-off seas.
Yes, it's making me a little over-poetic. But cut me a break, I spent my whole day thinking about Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson and Ursula Le Guin, and I'm only human.