Of all the gifts given to Sleeping Beauty, the most useful one would have been a packing ability. Neither Aurora nor I received this gift and so my room is about 75% unpacked. The worst part is that that last 25% consists of the little things requiring little spaces somewhere in my little room.
I am waging a losing battle against my posters that behaved like beautiful children on my walls at home. Here, armed with adhesive blue putty, I have been hammering, taping, banging, cajoling and cursing these stupid beasts who refuse to stay where they are puttied. An odd combination of unnatural substances seems to do the trick but our whiteboard outside is a fallen hero. I haven't taken the class on Florence Nightengale yet.
Our group of first years met, and I was struck by its unoriginality. Not that it wasn't fun (it kind of was), or that the people don't seem interesting (they kind of do), but we've done this. We've done this at every camp-youthgroup-school-class-anything and college name games are the same name games as everywhere else.
Off to continue to fight the good fight. This may be Waterloo, but I AM the Duke of Wellington and the posters will die a Corsican defeat.