The Student Voice of MU Since 1955
Monday, September 15, 2014

Column: 48 hours of cabin fever

My roommates have become hostile, we’re running out of food and I’m cold.

Abigail Fisher

Feb. 10, 2014

The opinions expressed by The Maneater columnists do not represent the opinions of The Maneater editorial board.

Hour One: It has just been announced that campus will be closed tomorrow due to inclement weather. Let the celebrations begin! Instead of reading for the classes I have on every other Tuesday, my roommates and I will now commence filling our faces with queso and virgin margaritas (because my mom reads this column).

Hour Four: The fiesta has ended, and I am now completely filled with the nectar of the Tex-Mexican gods. I now will succumb to sleep for the next 12 hours.

Hour 16: I have just woken up. After rolling over and pulling the blinds apart, I found a parking lot engulfed by the white excrement of the winter sky. Regardless of my lack of need for rest, I will return to my slumber for the next four hours.

Hour 23: I have neither brushed my hair today, nor have I donned a bra. However, I have eaten two cinnamon buns and have consistently scrolled through my Tumblr dashboard for 67 consecutive minutes, breaking my previous record by 24.8 minutes. It has just been announced that school will also be canceled tomorrow. My roommates and I have officially spent the past 20-some hours in the same small apartment. I may soon have to retreat to my bedroom in order to regain mental stability.

Hour 25: I have just returned from a short trek into the wilderness. After only walking across the parking lot with intentions of freeing my sweet Jetta from her straitjacket of ice, I feel as if my body would actually shatter if it were tapped with a small hammer. You know how on the Food Network they sometimes freeze things with liquid nitrogen? I never thought I would be able to relate to one of Alton Brown’s ice cream recipes, but alas, here I am.

Hour 28: What few ready-made foods we have stored away in the kitchen are running low. My roommates and I fear we might have to risk the drive to the grocery store, or god forbid, actually cook something. We are down to three boxes of macaroni and half of a frozen pizza, which will likely only last a few hours longer. I had originally welcomed these few snow days, but I now regret my excitement.

Hour 30: It is 2 a.m. as I type this. I have just finished watching six documentaries on Netflix. To be honest, they were not even based on topics I have any interest in learning about, but I now can recite Mitt Romney’s entire life story. I will now attempt to sleep.

Hour 40: Rest was a rare commodity last night. I found myself not tired, but bored and with no other options for activities, so I laid in bed and played an old favorite of mine: Tiny Tower. I already have 11 floors.

Hour 42: Cabin fever is settling in. My roommates and I have become hostile. I do not blame them though, for I too wish to escape our hellish entrapment.

Hour 45: My roommates and I have found escape. Unfortunately, only three of us made it out. One straggler was napping when the other three found relief in digging out one of our cars and indulging in fast food for the afternoon. We fondly remembered our lost sister as we scarfed French fries; hopefully soon she, too, can escape.

Hour 48: It has just been announced that campus will be open tomorrow, classes will be in session, and Columbia Transit will finally be running again. As much as I enjoyed the past 48 hours, I look forward to venturing out and returning to routinely leaving the house, being obligated to wash my hair and changing my clothes regularly.

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