Let’s brainstorm some things that are best left to the young. Say, those under 25 years of age:
Ah, dorm life. Communal living with strangers. Sharing space with people who, in turn, annoy you, disgust you, bother you, and steal your food. Without fail, these people stay up too late or get up too early, listen to horrifying music (usually too loud), borrow your clothes without permission, and hog the bathroom. If you’re really lucky, they’ll have a love-of-their-life that spends a good portion of the time in your room, often meaning that you’re stuck in the rec room until the wee hours of the morning while they do the horizontal limbo—hopefully, not in your bed.
Dorms are no place for adults.
So, it is with utmost amusement (and shock and horror and much disbelief) that I learned that Counselor Shelley will be moving into a dorm soon.
Yes, you read that right. Not graduate student housing. Not an on-campus apartment like they used to have for married students. A dorm.
See, Counselor Shelley is going back to school to become Dr. Shelley. Unfortunately, her PhD program is over an hour away from her nice suburban home on the golf course, and between gas prices and the workload piled on doctoral students, it just made sense for her to have a place near campus. Now, practical miss that Shelley is, she figured why not take advantage of the fact the University has living quarters right on campus?
Ummm, because it’s a dorm. Students live there, for goodness sake.
Now I know many of you don’t know Shelley all that well, but let’s just say that Shelley makes me seem very low maintenance in comparison. Can you envision me in a dorm? Now multiply that by about a thousand, and you’ll understand why I burst out laughing at the news and didn’t stop until I needed DG’s asthma inhaler.
She’s tried very hard to convince me of the soundness of this plan, but if you have to go buy a memory foam mattress (because you know those matresses are crap and dog only knows how dirty), a decent desk chair (because the standard issue ones will irritate your bad back) and some lamps (because you need the extra light to read), then sorry, you’re too old to be in the dorm.
I have visions of Shelley storming down hallways at 10pm, reminding everyone that it’s Quiet Hours and therefore time to turn that music down. It’s bedtime, people!
Thank dog she has a private room or she’d be short-sheeted (or worse) every single night.
I admire Shelley’s decision to get her PhD. I’m in awe of her determination and scholarly aspirations. I’m so proud of her because I know how hard she’s worked and how hard she will be working.
I’m also taking bets on how long this dorm thing will last. I see a off-campus studio apartment in the near future.
Or I would if I could stop laughing long enough.
Stay tuned. I’m sure this is going to be one fun semester…
*** So, did you live in a dorm? Did you love it or hate it? Think you could handle living there now? (Heck, I've decided Youth Hostels are just as bad...)