8 May, 2009. 1:04 PM.

Going home tomorrow. Freshman year is over. Done. Pulled an A- in my crazy math class. This year was amazing.

So, Matt was on call last night. Call came in at one point, during which we both laughed, mostly due to the fact that the pager had been set to “play a cute little tune to let you know there is an emergency.” I left to go do things, he met up with a group of us later. We proceeded to read out synopses of R. Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet” until about 4 in the morning.

Matt and I went back to his room, he worked for a while, might have fallen asleep on the floor, eventually made it over to the bed. Earlyish in the morning, I hear the pager going off—it’s faint, because he didn’t clip it to his collar like he usually does. I woke him up—we were both pretty exhausted and took a few seconds to get oriented. I went back to sleep and he came back an hour and a half later.

This was the first call that came in while we were both asleep. It’ll be a good thing to get used to now. It’s not horrible, just unsettling for a minute or so. But the real kicker is this: after Matt came back and went back to sleep, the fire alarm went off. I change into day clothes after asking if we can just stay there. As I’m leaving, I see that Matt is still in bed, curled up under the blanket. I step outside of his room and see uniformed people in the kitchen space, which is full of smoke and smells like burned something. Oh, the A3 kitchen.

I let Matt know and go outside, standing with a friend of mine. Soon after, I hear uneven footsteps and see Matt come down the stairs, secondary bag at his side, looking tired, for the obvious reasons. The alarm shut off, we went back inside and went on with our day.

I don’t want this year to be over. I’m packing my things and trying to use all of my dining points. I’m excited for the summer, though. I’m excited to start up again in the fall. To all of you in the area: talk to me (via more private communication) about getting together over the summer.