The sun is shining, and the birds are chirping. There are people sitting outside at Trin and students sprawled out studying on the Lawn. Dogs gracefully gallop across the grassy fields, serving as the best kind of stress relief. Heaven and hell, Foxfield and finals, are on their way — you can decide which one is which. But don’t let the gorgeous weather fool you. It’s safe to say that everyone is a little on edge. Whether it’s your impossible anthropology final next week or your search for that perfect summer internship, you’re tense to say the least. All-in-all, it’s heating up outside, but it’s heating up inside too. This time of the year I like to call “Spring Fever,” and tensions among students are at their highest. So, I’ll take you through a typical Thursday in my shoes as I experience, first hand, the fever.
Picture this. You wake up a bit earlier than usual in order to finish that paper that’s due in a couple of hours. You realize that your apartment-mates spent the night passive aggressively cleaning in order to piss off their fellow housemates (AKA you). You just imagine their train of thought: take all my stuff out of the living room, you say? Well, fine, how about I take everything out of the living room. Bold move, you think as you walk out your front door, realizing all of the furniture is gone. You wonder how they even fit it into their rooms. However, you really don’t want to ask, so you tell them that it looks great, thanks for cleaning!
You get to central Grounds, grab a coffee, and search for a table on the first floor of Nau. It’s always competitive to get a table these days, but you notice your peers are running a little bit faster than usual to that last open table. You don’t think much of it until they give you a look that could cut diamonds. You even halfway expect them to hiss at you. Okay, you think to yourself, time to find another table.
Your professor in Maury 115 looks a little fainter than usual at the front of the classroom. Your peers and you are also really starting to feel the effects of the broken AC. You feel the beads of sweat collecting on your forehead as you turn around to check the time. When you turn back around, you notice that the professor’s eyes are looking concerningly beady, as they stare down the broken AC unit like it’s a student on their cell phone. Just 10 more minutes, you think to yourself.
After class, you go to Grit. You only have an hour left before that 15 page paper is due, and you’ve only written your name, so it’s crunchtime. Those two loud people on the second floor talking about how much they hate their theses seem louder than usual, almost like they are screaming at one another even though they are only a foot away. Your fellow Grit regulars seem to be staring them down a little more aggressively than usual, violently shoving earbuds in their ears. You nervously glance at the loud Grad students, attempting to tell them through your eyes that they are just not safe anymore.
After a couple more classes, your day comes to a close. You promptly take yourself and your backpack to Bilt. As you’re sitting outside with your friends, you start to wonder why people are actually going to survivor hour — is it really the good weather or does it have to do with that glimmer of hopelessness in their eyes? As you watch the person next to you chug two doubles with their friends emotionlessly cheering them on, almost like they are conducting a cult initiation, you sip your drink in fear.
After you grab your Thursday night Sheetz, you head back home. All the conversations you hear on your way back are about Foxfield morning plans. To pregame or not to pregame seems to be the question on everyone’s mind.
As you walk through your living room, it is still completely barren. Your apartment-mates still nowhere to be found. At least it’s clean, you think to yourself, shrugging. You head into your room, making sure to crank up the AC to its highest level, and jump in bed. Another day of Spring Fever in the books.
Sarah Holzgrefe is a Humor Columnist for The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at humor@cavalierdaily.com.
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