It’s the end of February. We’ve endured four months of sub-freezing temperatures, rain, snow, sleet, and general grey-ness. Spring is supposed to be coming, but it still gets dark around 5 p.m. Suddenly, the entire campus becomes overwhelmed in a collective hopelessness, a mass movement of misery that drives us away from the textbooks and towards the waffle fries.
9 a.m. class? Pssh, you’re lucky if I’m out of bed by noon. Screw orgo. Homework? Please, there’s whole seasons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians on Netflix to keep up with. The Ratty? Yes please, I suddenly feel like eating everything, including scrod (whatever the hell that is). Going out? Nah, it’s a much better idea to lie on the floor in fetal position and silently attempt to fill the lack of love in my life with a giant tub of EasyMac.
Basically, the whole campus — male and female — has a communal case of PMS.
There’s a name for this phenomenon: Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). This is not to be confused with Singles Awareness Day. We joke, but SAD is a real and serious problem. If you suffer from the winter doldrums, you’re not alone.