O, finals eve. The night the library is still decidedly teeming with stressed folks at 10:30 at night. Gets me right there. I kind of like finals week. It's a nice segue from the rest of the semester into the non-semester. It's enough schedule change and classlessness to feel like a break, maybe. And nothing marks the night before finals like Midnight Breakfast. I forgot it was tonight, but when I was leaving Hart, I could smell the bacon. It was then I remembered. I won't be going to that this year. I think I've been twice in my college career. I've never been really impressed with it because it's not the typical wonderful Winslow breakfast fare, but it's the concept that counts, right? And Michael Smith in a Santa suit.
My finals week benchmark, as I have mentioned before, has always been getting Winslow to-go, especially breakfast. It's a little sad that it won't be happening this year. But it's not because I'm not living on campus. See, the tradition is to get Winslow on the way back from an 8:00 final. The only 8:00 final I have is Shakespeare, but I have the BarbCobb final right after that. So there won't be any hopping in my car, driving to Winslow to get breakfast, and bringing back to my apartment as I would have done if my schedule had allowed for it.
Now that I've successfully written two paragraphs about Winslow breakfast, I think it's time to call it a night.