The Price We Pay

Right, so last night it was kind of funny to think that it was the last day of warmth. It was almost comical to think that everyone knew what was coming, and like a terminal illness, they were taking advantage of every last moment of happiness. It was silly to think that it would be fun to wear coats and jackets with coordinating scarfs and hats. It was nonsensical to think that it would be enjoyable to take a little stroll in the snow. Yes, it was fun to think that Fall in Rexburg was coming. That was last night. Then Fall came to Rexburg. I awoke to the sound of ice cold rain hitting the sound of the frost-bitten pavement. Our window was left open last night, and a fresh gust of Rexburg wind cascaded over my body. Curse me for going to bed in shorts and a T-shirt. Curling into a ball in my bed, I pressed snooze on my cell phone and prayed that I would be in Florida when I woke up again. buzz...buzz...buzz...buzz...buzz...buzz... my alarm went off five minutes later, and regretfully, I was not on a sunny beach in Daytona, instead I was still in this iceburg called Rexburg. I jumped out of bed, grabbed some clothes, and ran to a warm shower. However, the plumbing must be controlled by the weather, for I was rapidly running out of warm water. That was stressful, and slightly foreboding of the day I was sure I would have. Then I had to decided what to wear. That was stressful. But not nearly as stressful as tying to do my hair, knowing that it was only going to get wet, making my look like a drowned cat by 10:14 AM. I got ready fairly quickly this morning, but stalled for over 40 minutes simply because I didn't want to leave my apartment. Yet, my Visual Media project was beckoning, and I had to head to the library. That was a fateful walk. Bundled up in my BYU-Idaho hoodie, lime green socks, and trusty brown moccasins, I embarked on what was sure to be my coldest adventure in months. I was not disappointed. I felt goosebumps forming on my legs halfway down my steps, and my nose is still trying to defrost. I tried to avoid puddles, and not get hit by oncoming cars. My peripheral was shot, as I had my hood up, modeling the Bagwoman of Kellcotta look. I did however try to pay attention to other students. They looked as miserable and forlorn as I felt. There was a conglomeration of hoodies, The Far Side jackets, and beanies. Yet everyone had the same expression that seemed to say, "It's 8:37 in the morning, and it's 41 degrees out. Why am I doing this again?" Oh right, a college education. The price we pay to be smart. I hope that there are some kind of saint points in heaven that BYU-I students are racking up for going to school in Rexburg. Just saying. In the meantime, I am going to prep myself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually for my seven minute walk from the library to the Hinckley so I can continue my college education with English 311. Wish me luck. Thank you, and goodnight.