This morning my hands smell like snickerdoodles. It’s not a bad smell at all, a mix of butter and cinnamon and sugar. Maybe in my dream life I’ll bake every morning while it rains lightly outside. Or maybe I’ll be realistic and save that for special occasions.
In the past two days, I’ve done no homework. There’s still half of a poster to be written on, but it’s so low priority with all these baking supplies that need to be used up. I’ve made oatmeal raisin cookies, homemade pop-tarts, (both recipes from Smitten Kitchen), and snickerdoodles in the past 24 hours. I spent a few hours wandering around Uptown yesterday and gazing longingly at an abandoned synagogue with my friend, wishing we could go inside without getting arrested or feeling guilty. Thank goodness someone from Huff Post got inside legally and took pictures so the rest of us can live vicariously through them.
I’ve met with professors and had my last class and turned things in. And I’ll keep doing those little closing things this week to wrap up another year of college and prepare for my final semester. And then there’s the packing – ay-ay-ay. So I guess I’m not really done yet, but for all academic purposes, I nearly am.
As nice as it is to have little that presses on me to do in terms of assignments and just a few things to do responsibility-wise, I’m having a hard time coming down from the mentality that I always should be doing something productive. It’s like switching species to transition into summer, going from a bee to a sloth. My summer is still going to have quite a lot of purpose, but compared with the school year, I’ll have more free time.
Commence the transition into a slower tempo. We’re not at allegro agitato anymore. More andante, walking pace. And not that hyped up, caffeinated walking pace of a city dweller. We’re going to a suburban summer pace.