Dealing with transforming into an amorphous lump over break

LAURA MILLER

Contributing Writer

lemiller@goshen.edu

I’m surprised I made it back to school this semester, what with me having transformed into an amorphous lump over Christmas break and all. All I can remember is my parents shoving me into a westbound car, and then waking up 10 hours later and managing to slither into my apartment where I collapsed once again into a heap on my bed.

If I wasn’t just a literal lump, I might care that the semester before I had been an active member of several clubs, went to work every day and even studied on occasion, and that if I wanted to lead a productive life, I might continue to care about those things. But, alas, I’m a lump.

It happened over break. I turned into an amorphous lump in the same way one falls asleep, which author John Green compared to falling in love: “Slowly, and then all at once.” And I turned into an amorphous lump in the same way one goes bankrupt, according to Ernest Hemingway: “Gradually, and then suddenly.”

It happened gradually as my parents fed me never-ending meals, followed by never-ending cookies. And gradually, I started sleeping in until nine, then 10, then 11 and then 12. The lag time between finishing binge watching one show and starting another became shorter. Then, all of a sudden, during season 3 episode 5 of Happy Endings, my muscles and bones holding me upright collapsed, and I became one round, amorphous lump, unable to move anywhere except the fridge.

My organs were just sort of floating there, my brain sinking down next to stomach, my heart pin-balling between my kidneys. I’m sure you all know the feeling. Then I remained that way in a blissful, Netflix-induced coma for the next two and a half weeks. It was uh-mah-zing.

So here I am back in Goshen with a slight problem. You might be experiencing a similar one. How do I disguise the fact that I’m an amorphous lump? Here are a few tips.

Fooling the roommate: Pretend that you are a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. It won’t be that hard; there’s dirty laundry everywhere in your room. And you already smell like a pair of sweats going on day 26. Easy-peasy. They will never know the difference between you and a stinky, slightly crusty pile of old clothes.

Tricking your professor: This one might be a bit more difficult. Shoot them an email explaining that you have contracted a highly contagious illness that will last exactly 15 weeks. You don’t need to explain what illness it is because of FERPA, but explain that this means you’ll need to Skype into the class. Prop a picture of yourself in front of the computer. There you have it! Be sure to explain that the illness usually gets better around the week of Spring Break, long enough for you to go be an amorphous lump on a beach in the Caribbean, but then usually resurges stronger than ever for the last eight weeks of the semester.

Dealing with your job: Quit it.

Maintaining friendships: You deserve quality friends, and those friends need to also be amorphous lumps. Get rid of the toxic people in your life who keep telling you to get your butt off the couch. You don’t need that kind of negativity. You become the people you surround yourself with, so only surround yourself with other lumps.

There you have it, folks. Perfect guide. Please try all of these.

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