So one of the activities planned for today was seeing the senior class dean at Smith about my readmission process. I was seriously nervous, as she is an entirely new dean (the old one I had been working with retired about a year ago) and wasn't sure how I was going to have to act, plus I was already flustered by having got there just barely on time (where the hell did I put my bike lock? *sigh*) I'm not sure what I was expecting, but certainly not this sweet little old lady in a business suit who actually found great humor in my "I'm allergic to tree sperm" observation. Anyway, once I got into her office, most of my initial intimidation went away and I spent the next half hour summing up my shockingly large student file (hard evidence that I had gone through just about every dean present) and what exactly I had been doing with myself for the past three years. Overall, I think she liked me - I certainly seemed to make her laugh a lot, or at least made her forget the amount of post commencement paperwork that was strewn about her desk.
Unfortunately, I have missed a major deadline for returning in the fall - I can't get my medical interview until Health Services reopens in the September, as they have just shut down for the summer. D'oh! I am strangely not upset about this; I had suspected that I had missed something along the way during the move and the job hellaciousness, and had even formulated a backup plan of heading back into the UMass trenches for a class or two, depending on what I can afford. Doesn't hurt to beef up my pitiful transcript some. In the meantime, I have another little white readmission form to fill out (*sigh*) and fighting with the UMass registrar's office for my transcipt to look forward to. Whoo-doggies. The guy at the Registrar's office actually was really helpful about all the stuff I needed to do though - his name was Adam and according to Dean Houser, did the Registrar's office thing by day and was a musician by night. He also bore a striking resemblance to an acquaintance of mine, down to having the nose ring in the right place. Meg Yardley, if you're by any chance reading this, I think you have a lost twin brother somewhere. Oh, and by the way, hi.
I pedaled back home after doing the college hall meringue (I'm tired of cha cha) being very amused by the Dean's factoid about how in order to keep gardens and lawns neat, people who care about such things started planting more male trees. Granted they don't drop as many pods and flowers, but think about it. I'm allergic to tree pollen. And what happens if there are more male trees around? That's why our allergies are getting worse, people, we're paying for the neatness of The Man's lawns. Crikey.
Anyway, progress towards the eventual finish of my college career seems to have been made. I'm a little discouraged that I may have to wait four more months, but as long as I get the hell out of Smith with my little yellow get-out-of-college-with-degree card next May, what does it matter?
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