I had three completely independant thoughts in the time it took me to go to dinner from my dorm room and return, which was about half an hour - four, if you count this intro. It was longer, but I forgot most of it by the time I actually sat down to type.
One. You know it's let's-try-out-weird-shit night when the best-tasting and most familiar thing on the menu is fried okra. Don't get me wrong, I like fried okra (for a while, at least) but still.
No, wait. There was the grill. And they were doing personal pizzas, but I rescind that because it seems they're never in for long enough, so you can't eat even half of them.
At least there were chocolate chip cookies. Yum.
Two. A couple days ago, I probably would have been incredibly hurt by the treatment I've gotten these past two nights, which was that of almost silence. I was acknowledged once tonight, when I went away, and not at all yesterday, even though there were only two of us. But it really doesn't matter. It's not like they were purposely ignoring me, or had forgotten me. It's... a relief, really. To feel confident that there isn't something wrong with me, there's just some real pricks out there.
And worse, but at least I haven't run into them yet.
Three. The temperature on leaving the dining hall is just about right, these days, that if the couryard in front of it is silent, the sound of the fountain makes you think it's raining heavily. For a moment.