I returned home from Spring Break this year to discover that my bike had essentially been stripped by thieves. Well, that isn't entirely true. It happened in two stages, and the first stage was probably the work of drunks rather than thieves.
And here we are in February. What happened to January? Or December? How did I manage to accomplish so little in four weeks? How will I now make up for that slack? When do I even have time to read, let alone answer my emails? What have I gotten myself into?
"Well, that could have gone more smoothly," I said to myself as I stood by the Reflecting Pool, shaking from a recent adrenaline infusion, several hundreds of thousands of my closest friends surrounding me.