The ever-so-lovely and inimitable Terri has written about her experiences as a parent sending her child off to college. You can read about it here. Go there now and read it. I promise not to type another word until you get back. Luckily I cannot afford to send my kids to college so I will never need to worry about this stuff. ESPECIALLY with my daughter as she is currently chained to the radiator and will never be allowed to leave the house. Perhaps she can venture out ONLY with adult supervision…when I die.
I am looking at the story from a different perspective. For all you stalkers out there, you already know I live in Boston (I realize I am flattering myself here). In the corner of Boston I live, I am approximately 2 miles from Boston College and Boston University. I am 3 miles from Harvard University and 5 miles from M.I.T. For any full-time resident of Boston, this past weekend was the dreaded moving-in day for approximately 1 billion students (official estimate). What this means is that you take streets that are too narrow and combine them with moving vans that are too big and this yields a recipe for something called traffic. There is traffic everywhere! On my run the other day, I had to stop and move myself around the vans and the metal ramps projecting to the front steps of double and triple decker houses. I dodged kids lifting and contorting couches up three flights of stairs. My favorite part of all this was the inevitable piles of trash removed from previous tenants onto the already-too-small sidewalks.
I know I am very lucky to live within 2 miles of my job so complaining about my commute might be irrelevant to those of you who battle real traffic every day, but I can tell you that even in the 4 minute ride, the traffic is noticeable and annoying. 4 minutes turned into a 6 minute commute! AAARGGGH!
The house next door to me is a two-family also. When I say next door, I mean approximately 15 feet from my living room is their living room. Currently, there are about 168 college boys living in there. The other night they had their first party. I was subjected to thumping gangsta rap music that rattled my windows until 3AM, one kid throwing up in the street, two girls peeing in the driveway, a clear-as-day view of a group of them smoking pot, a girls gone wild style dance-fest and, somewhat interestingly, a window shade up view of a couple taking care of business in a way that would put porn stars to shame. I wanted to high-five the kids when they were done….and then wash my hands. Yuck!
Did I mention I have kids? Luckily, the baby goats stayed asleep during all this. They heard none of the rape music (based on the lyrics I heard, I am allowed to call it that. Sorry) and they did not see the police arrive when I called and they definitely did not see their dad pulling a Mr Roper from Three’s Company:
So, sweet Terri says good-bye and I say hello. Just be grateful he didn’t go to school in Boston!
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