So it’s Thursday and my class let out some five minutes ago. It’s late in the evening, around 6 p.m. I put all my books in my bag and try not to freak out at the fact that there are still a lot of things I have to read and write and try to learn, and they probably won’t all get read or written or learned. It’s all pretty overwhelming, but at least I find some measure of comfort in my own anxiety. If anything it’s familiar.
So anyway, I’m walking down the path there between the SUB and A building, and a student is walking towards me. Fairly straightforward stuff. But then he spits on the ground, which is horrible. There aren’t many habits more off-putting than spitting. It seems as if the spirit of the university agreed with me, because the spitter trips seemingly on his own spit. He doesn’t fall, it’s not a huge trip, which makes sense because he didn’t spit much. But I’m glad nature looks after itself in these snarky, passive-aggressive ways.
Don’t trip, my dudes. Don’t spit.
