I’ve resigned myself to the rocking dad bod I adopted alongside my kitten, so my first and only resolution this year will be to graduate. Once I have my ducks in a line and stone in the slingshot (as it were) in regards to final marks and completion requirements, I have only to look forward to opening up my wallet and spreading it wide for the world around me to lift me by the ankles for another shakedown. (Which, when taking into account that the open wallet and no mention of pockets might seem incredibly gratuitous.)
Between application fees and the probable few dozen dollars it costs to print on that rare university degree paper, I’ll also have the joy of pictures of me wearing a fake smock and hat in front of a greenscreen or bookshelf wallpaper. I’m just itching to wait out a three-hour ceremony for a brief moment of awkwardness where I have to be in front of people and hear my name mispronounced.
The end of the semester can’t come sooner. At least I’ll probably score a free dinner before an alumni organization asks me for donations.
