If I’d have known in the beginning that I’d spend almost my entire summer break unemployed, laid up sick in bed and surfing the Internet from my laptop, I’m not sure I would’ve gone through with it—not that I know of any alternative to living through the months of May, June, and July, but I definitely would’ve tried to think of one. The thing about taking a break from school is that when you get back summer seems like such a goddamn waste. I’m waiting to get back to work. The suspense is killing me. No, seriously. Right now I’d do anything to be about three weeks into the future, and we’re in the final stretch, here.
Of course, I’m also angling to jump all the work that’s coming up.
In the next three weeks I have to pack enough stuff to manage the next ten months; I have to pick a fight with my college, because I’ve learned that nothing gets done with the academic bureaucracy unless I make like I’m about to throw a hyperbolic, metaphorical punch; I’d like to find a job. Think I’ll be able to find a job? I doubt I’ll be able to find a job but I’m seeing a lot of weekends in my future, weekends spent dressing in nice shirts and filling out endless applications.
I have to physically move, which’ll be a pain and a half. I have to move to a city I absolutely hate, that’s worse.
What makes all this worth it? Oh, besides the fact that it’ll feel like someone finally hit PLAY on my life again, my studio apartment has all utilities included—which means, that’s right, free air conditioning, twenty-four hours a day, every day, year round. If you live in Arizona, you’ll understand. My parent’s house in Flagstaff doesn’t even have A/C.
The apartment’s got a pool, too.