You have a ton of stuff to do this weekend. There is studying, packing, cleaning, erranding, plus at least a good two hours of lying on the couch and relaxing. And all of that must fit into a short two-day span.
Oh, and most of your friends are already done with exams and are using their time left on campus to party it up before heading home for the summer. And it’s 75 and sunny out.
You set a schedule on Friday and vow to stick to it. There will be 9am wake-ups, trips to the gym, then off to the library for serious study time. During study breaks, there will be grocery store runs and throwing some of those winter clothes into suitcases. You will break for meals, but nothing else.
Midway through Saturday, though, you get hounded with texts about a party that you “HAVE TO BE AT.” It might be a birthday, or the last time you’ll see a few friends before they leave for the summer. Whatever the reason, “YOU BETTER BE THERE, BITCH.”
You convince yourself that you can go. You know, just to make an appearance. You will use that as your motivation to get through the next few hours. You’ll only stop by for an hour, which is not a big deal at all; you weren’t going to sit in the library all night long anyway.
So you start pounding out those flashcards. Before you know it, it’s 10 pm and people are calling to find out where you are. You are quite proud of all the work you’ve gotten done and you’ve reached a good stopping point, so you pack up all the notebooks/books/empty Red Bull cans and decide to reward yourself with one beer. Just one beer. Then you’re going home.
On your way to the party – over-stuffed backpack in tow – you go over the list of things to accomplish tomorrow: gym, few more hours of studying, plus all that errand running and packing you neglected today. Totally doable.
That is, until you actually enter the party chock full of extremely happy, extremely free and extremely drunk people.
“OMFG! LOOK WHO’S HERE! We haven’t seen you allllll daaaay.” Suddenly you have 12 drunk friends giving you too-tight hugs and handing you beers.
“Thanks,” you take a beer. “I’m only having one and then I gotta get home.” So you have one. And then, before you know it, there is a fresh beer in your hand. Two beers isn’t a big deal, though. You can handle two. You’ll just finish that one and leave.
But the beer feels so good after a long day in the library. And so does socializing with someone other than your Psych textbook and the smelly guy who asked to share your table with you. You are having so much fun that you don’t even realize when you are suddenly in your 4th round of flip cup (“There’s not THAT much beer in the cup,” you tell yourself), or when you are getting high-fived after a record-breaking keg stand.
Soon it’s 4am, your backpack is soaked with (what you hope is) beer, and you are sitting in a corner sharing a medium pizza with your friend.
You know at this point that tomorrow is totally shot, that you’d be lucky to make it out of bed before 3pm, that “just making an appearance” is not possible.
And you want to care, really you do, but this is college and you’re young and, OMG, that pizza is just so. effing. good.
And, really, you can just order in for the next week and pack on Monday night. You’ll be fine.
We’ve all been there…and we turned out ok!