Well not exactly. But I don't know where I'll be living a week from now. With a roommate? On campus? Off campus? With anyone I know? No idea.
My residence hall is being closed. Everyone has to move out by Sunday. The heating/pipes are busted beyond repair. The build is hecka old anyway and with no way to keep the residents warm during the winter months (and it gets very cold here) out we go.
My first thought?
Yes. Now I don't have to change that dang lightbulb.
Second thought: hey! I just decorated my room the way I like it! Do all that again? Shoot. We all know I'm not crafty.
But then it sank in. Adios my little residence hall. Sometime in these past two years I learned to love your ugly green carpet, the asbestos in the ceiling, the way I could just yell down the hall and talk to everyone. I loved the teeny rooms that forced everyone out into the common area where we'd watch movies, have dance parties, and birthday cake. Bless your fifty year old outdated heart.
I'm not too nervous really. I know I'll have someplace to live. It might not be ideal but I'll have a roof and a bed. Necessities? Check. I can work from there. What I am worried about are my residents. There was definitely some freaking out associated with this news. Tears, stress, one or two "I need to go punch something"s. (You know who you are - and thank you for not.) I'm in charge of these gals. I love the heck out of 'em. Mostly I'm sad that the community I've worked so hard to build will be split up.
So this week. I have a test on Friday. A paper due. Probably a quiz. I have a lab research paper to finish (and by that I mean start) and what else? Oh yeah. I have to box up room, pack everything and move. And then there is the 21 other girls I need to help. Emotional toll? Yes. I will be stocking up on the tissues, the pillows for those that need to punch, and I'll work on my soothing voice. "don't worry. It'll be ok. You'll have a place to live. We'll work it out. Please don't pull the drinking fountain off the wall."