"Go, child! The power of Target flows through you!"

... I'm home!
Or, rather, back at one of them - IU. Bloomington. I'd say Indiana, but outside of this little oasis, there's not much inclination to set down my stuff and get comfortable.

However, that doesn't matter! I'm tucked neatly back into town, my stuff is 78% or so unpacked (you best believe I've done the math!), and... the best part...
I'M OUT OF THE DORMS.

Oh dear god, put on the Handel record and let the "Hallelujah's!" resonate around for a while. It's about damn time.

3 years of stuffing all of my worldly belongings into a cubic space the size of a slightly generous jail cell. 3 years of trekking down the hall in fuzzy slippers and a fuzzier towel to shower, multitasking with appeasing the multiple voyeurs that always seemed to be congregating around in the corridor at that exact moment. 3 years of cooking my food in microwaves, washing my dishes in public bathroom sinks, and getting progressively and more desperately creative with the salad bar to stave off insanity. 3 years of waking up at 4 in the morning due to neighbors, roommate, or commotion out in the hallway...
... it's good to know that, while I can still expect commotion to jolt me from bed in the witching hour, I'll know who's responsible.

It means I can hunt them down later and destroy them utterly.
... I mean, ask them nicely to quit it. With my fist.

Not that I'm complaining. Oh, okay, fine, I am. I'm being a whiny little bint, and I know it - It just feels so damn BRILLIANT to be making my own space (1/2 of it, anyway) into my own home. To see my pictures on a room that's not RPS regulated, to have my food in the fridge, to just be able to relax with my roommate without worrying about propriety - or, rather, whether or not the lounge has been reserved... well...
... it's a beautiful thing.

I know people who stayed in the dorm system for all 4 years of their undergrad - I figured that would be me, as well, even though Josh and I talked about moving in together for the past three years. ("Close"?! Ha! Laughable - we are more than close. We are BFFFFFFFF's. ..... and I think I just vomited a bit in my mouth. Yuck) In any case, the moment Josh asked me to move in, the thinly stretched part of me that believed I could make living with underclassmen for *one more year* ripped to shreds. Don't get me wrong, the kids I lived with last year were fun and entertaining, and I hope they found me equally amusing (even if not intended)... but suddenly, that bathroom walk was less than tolerable. The 4 a.m. thing got *really* old, *really* fast. Cooking eggs in the morning - in the microwave (it's an exact science) - was not quite as fascinating.

... Let us just say that, after 2 1/2 years of perusing the thought, I've looked forward to this homecoming for a half year now. As my roommate and I often throw around, we've mentioned that we were excited to live together about, oh, 5000 times or so.

However, I think the quintessential moment - the epitome, the point - of finally being here... last night at dinner. Josh, his friend A., and me, eating a homemade meal, each enjoying a beer, swapping embarassing stories, and then curling up after for a marathon of Scrubs. Senior year is going to be tough. Interesting. Complicated and busy as hell. However... it's nice to know that, not only do I have a room to come back to... but I have a *home* to look forward to returning to each evening.

Thank goodness. It's about time. :)