The nice man cometh

Happy news: after a week of a room so humid our sheets felt like wet towels at night, I finally filed a complaint on the maintenance list. Along with a haiku on our sufferings, imploring the maintenance man to come quickly. I returned that afternoon to an enormous humidifier sitting in the hall. 

    Now? I can sleep between my sheets instead of camping on top of the duvet. Our towels actually dry out between showers. And we are no longer in danger of succumbing to walking pneumonia as a result of the dorm room climate. 

Moral of the story: I credit the haiku. Poetry = power. 

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I like people. My roommate and her efforts to scary my psyche with her nursing textbooks. Anna and Erin, who hug me when I feel twelve years old. Our amazing neighbors, Claire and her dancing and counseling, and Meagan with her dry wit and one-liner pronouncements on life-things. Deborah and Channing and Joanna and Michael, my favorite freshmen who are now sophomores and I feel old. The charming new people in my classes that are becoming friends. The guys in Beeson Woods that I still think of as "the Ramsey guys." RUF folk. Dr. Brown the walking history textbook and Dr. Steward the good-kind-of-challenging teacher. My favorite library people Ms. Lori and Ms. Gail. All the cute little freshmen who are my brother's age and make me feel very older-sisterly and semi-maternal. I even like the Campus Security officers after last week's trauma. Yes, my Samford people. I like you lots. 

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The other biggest news in my life: Moe's has officially changed the Moo Moo Mr. Cow, the greatest fast food kid's meal known to man (close second: Dairy Queen and the free dilly bar). Yep. Cut the price to $3.29 and the burrito in half. They did keep the cookie, which leaves them a few shreds of decency. I think I could like the new Moo Moo. 

But I will still jump in the car with any semi-acquaintance who mentions Dairy Queen. Especially if it's one of those really old, crusty red ones in the middle of some barren cotton field town in South Alabama. I'm kind of obsessed. 

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And now you've got to build a bridge

That only you can walk across

Wear the truth until it fits

Pay the price and bear the loss

-Emmylou Harris, "Hold On"