I'm in Minneapolis again for a couple weeks. Just here learnin' stuff. My entrance was not as dramatic as last year, but I always get a few surprises. Like, my bed in the dorm is two and a half feet off the ground. I'll afford you a chuckle at my expense as you imagine me hoisting my fat ass in and out of that bed several times a night as I head to the bathroom. Oh right, the co-ed bathroom. Last year my goal was not to ever poop when someone else was in there. This year my goal is simply to avoid exposing my overstretched midsection to some unsuspecting teenage boy. I also have the pleasure of sharing a "quarter bath" with another dorm dweller. For those of you not familiar with the term, a quarter bath is a closet with a sink in it. Useful for pretty much nothing other than flossing. Or not even that because there's no garbage can.
All that aside, I feel like I'm on a little vacation with Snorkels. It's just me and he/she/it. I saw it kick through my belly for the first time the other day, and I was a little sad that I had no one with whom to share that moment (I don't think my Food Traceability professor would have appreciated a spontaneous sharing time), but I'm kind of enjoying my self-imposed isolation (so far). It's just me and Snorkels. Against the world. And the crazy cyclists on the bike paths. And the dorm food.
UPDATE: The only male on my floor (so far as I can tell) is being extradited for some mysterious crime he committed. I awkwardly witnessed a conversation between him and two policemen this afternoon. Looks like ladies get the run of the bathroom after all.