9/25, no. 44

For the first time, I'm 1166 miles away from home and I'm sick all at once. It doesn't feel any worse necessarily, sickness is sickness after all. Instead of my mom to check my forehead and diagnose my symptoms, I have myself (and Richard, my fellow pre-med warrior down the hall). Lots of fluids, tylenol, Ricola - that's all the same - but instead of my mom's homemade soup I have my Lipton instant chicken noodle soup, something I got sick of after three servings. It does the job, so I can't complain.

Something I sort of actually miss: a quiet house. My whole family is comprised of generally quiet people (including relatives, when sober), so the house would be quiet throughout the day and silent between the hours of 10pm and 6am (my alarm would break the silence and shake the house).

But it's a little different here. People lounge around right outside your door having fun and being liberatingly loud and exercising the no-quiet hours policy of the weekend. It's a wonderful thing to be a part of, not so wonderful when you're trying to sleep.

It's okay. I'll adapt.