(I was in a very strange mood when I wrote this. For this I apologise.)
To say the least, this week has been insane.
I have moved into the keep of an eleventh-century castle, spent far too many hours staring out at the amazing view, and discovered that having an incredible room is just the incentive I need to actually clear up after myself.
I have attended lectures for the first time in a month, met my dissertation supervisor for the first time ever, and been reassured that I do have a hope in hell of graduating with a 2.1. I am more relieved about that than words can express.
I have eaten sushi, sambuca jellies, and the edible parts of college dinners (supplemented with Maryland cookies on the nights when the inedible outweighed the edible).
I have pulled muscles, had blood drawn, and nearly exsanguinated myself with a razor (entirely by accident, I might add).
I have seen old friends, reestablished old routines, and started one new activity.
I have returned to university, almost for the last time. I’m still not sure if I’m ready for it to end or desperate for it not to.