A reason not to say goodbye

Two final papers. Three days. Forty-four pages. It ain't The Amazing Race, but it got the job done.

That's right, I did say "done." (Well, except for my job, and my other job, and my other other job, and that one babysitting job I agreed to do for the flighty woman with the messy house.) Whew! How's this for turnaround: I e-mailed my final Play paper to my professor at 4:57, and he replied with lovely comments at 5:35.

"Wonderful job!! You know how to write. Your writing strips away the unnecessary and gets at what you are trying to say -- and it flows. Furthermore, any reader can see how your thinking is hierarchically organize. We know what you find important and we know what it is you want us to learn. Clearly, the course and course material developed your thinking, and clearly you were able then to teach your reader. All this bodes well for your future. If you want to and the time comes when it is appropriate to do so, feel free to ask me for a letter of reference.

Best regards,
GS

p.s. You portfolio also was excellent -- carefully and creatively done. I am so grateful."

Isn't he sweet? I adore him. Of course, there was no grade, but I can live with that.

Meanwhile, I went to see a room to sublet for the fall, and who turns out to live there but one of my co-workers from the exclamation-point job! Which I took as a good sign. The place is a great deal more expensive than what I pay now, but I crunched the numbers and I can afford it, plus it has fairly everything I was looking for in a fall sublet: walking distance to Davis and Tufts, cable, WiFi, a washer/dryer, central A/C, a dishwasher (I think), off-street parking (especially crucial now that I know I'm ineligible for a Somerville parking permit), and it's furnished. Anybody want to buy some gently used furniture from me?

So here I am in the dark of my porch in Medford, exactly one year removed from my last days as an undergraduate, my iTunes set to the "quiet music" playlist, and my mind has never stopped reeling from the past few days and months and this year. "Oh, my love," Bono is singing (that's right, he called me his love), "it's a long way we've come." And if Bono sings it, it must be true.