GAINESVILLE.

In.
Settled.
Typing atop a four-hundred-count-thread fitted sheet.
Oh, and a bed.

My living space is much larger than I would have expected, and though I've yet to spend any time speaking with my roommate, I am feeling as though things are going to work.

I really think so.

I should be reading (which I will do shortly), or sorting clothing into drawers (which may never happen), but I'm currently sitting, which still proves a much more solid alternative to things such as shark-fishing or dying.

I am marginally out of sorts. It appears to be no one's fault, but I daresay I am sitting on the brink of a tiny bit of fear, smidgen of mental breakdown, and a precocious ounce or two of indecision about what the summer holds for the next two months.

Things will be alright. I am well aware of this.
Hopefully, they will, in addition, be amazing.
I am striving for exceptions today.