Playing House, Eating Carrot Cake

I've spent the past few days dog-sitting in a quaint little home in Hendersonville, the town I grew up in. I've had this charming abode all to myself, and it's been an interesting week. I've had some trouble falling asleep under a fluffy white duvet that isn't mine, and each morning I get up to wrestle with a coffee maker I don't understand.

But, all in all, it's been a quiet week, with many of my hours spent alone on a bed that is equal parts fluffy white duvet and black-lab hairs. Scout, the bestower of those hairs, is a very large, very easy-going dog, MOST OF THE TIME. Today I unlocked the front door and stepped into the living room to find Scout sitting forlornly in the middle of his humans' packages-- which were torn to shreds, the contents (decorations for an 8 year old's birthday party) scattered everywhere.

Aside from this incident, I've enjoyed staying here. It's nice to come home and have shouting matches with myself. No. Seriously. It's really fun to be able to come in the house, kick off my shoes dramatically, and flop down on the bed screaming "WHY MEEEEEEEE WHY WHY WHY" and then eat chips while crying. I can do this at home, of course, but there's something about having the freedom to do it in solitude that really makes those freak-out sessions fulfilling. Today, I came in, threw down my purse, and started singing Bad To The Bone and doing a victory dance.

Because?

Because, last night, I made the terrifying discovery that I was, in fact...

REGISTERED FOR COLLEGE CLASSES.

All this time! Since January 8th! I've been registered for random ECON classes and had no idea, blissfully ignorant to the fact that my deferment had somehow gotten lost between the admissions office and the registrar. I've made a dandy impression on four professors as a total loser who doesn't show up to class. But, a few tears in the OneStop office in front of the right people, and I got it resolved today. If only colleges were like hotels, and gave you free things when you throw a fit. How lovely it would have been if Daniel from Admissions had come back out of his superior's office with a coupon for 3 free credit hours to use during my next semester, as a token of apology for the TERRIBLE CUSTOMER SERVICE that I experienced.

Alas, the only reparation I received was a piece of carrot cake... that I got for myself.

Come on, UNCA!

I now have an even bitterer taste in my mouth towards this school, but I'm trying to hope for the best. Who knows! Maybe registration next week will go off without a hitch. Maybe things will go smoothly as I transition there in the fall. Maybe I won't get burned at the stake for my opinions on Bernie Sanders.

Miracles happen.

At least, after a very stressful day of crying in offices, I can come home to a charming little house where I can eat as many chips as I want without judgement, dance around in my underwear, and talk to myself. Life is good.