Sitting bolt upright in bed last Thursday night, President Christina Paxson awoke, drenched in sweat, with the phrase “triple commencement” running through her head.
“No no no no,” Paxson whispered shakily as the words ran through her mind on a loop, desperately staving off images of overbooked hotels, a Campus Dance with 20,000 attendees, and throngs of disgruntled family members descending on The Blue Room.
Stirring her third whiskey sour of the evening with a newly-purchased bar spoon, Grace Salgado has cleverly rebranded her new compulsion to drink alone at night as teaching herself mixology. “It’s really cool that I’m making a little space every day to pick up a new hobby in this crazy time,” said Salgado, slurring her words as she added a little bit of extra whiskey to the drink.
Sources have reported that area mom Grian Roser is typing on her computer’s keyboard as if she’s attacking it.
“At first I thought she was angry about something” reported Arlene Roser, Grian’s daughter, as her mother viciously jabbed into the keys to spell the word “sincerely” in a happy birthday email to her sister.
Area woman Janet McManus announced her intentions last Thursday to begin reading The Goldfinch.
“I’ve been so busy lately,” McManus admitted, scanning her bookshelf for that novel she’s been meaning to read. “But now I think it’s finally time to indulge myself, take a breath, and pick up a good book.
Dobry Wiśniewski, 103, and Estera Symanski, 100, were only just married when the German invasion of Poland destroyed their village and separated the newlyweds. Thanks to modern technology, however, the couple has finally had a chance to reunite after more than 80 long years apart.
In the midst of the pandemic, local boyfriend Mark Stebbens has become not only emotionally distant but also socially distant, his girlfriend reported.
“He’s never really been one for talking about how he feels, and now that we can’t get together, things are a little awkward between us,” said Stebbens’ girlfriend, Lisa Kowalsky.
Across the country, college campuses turned to ghost towns this year. With students and professors hunkered down inside, the adverse effect of COVID-19 on colleges and universities became clear. The toll of this pandemic is high and will continue to rise.
Every day I wake up drenched in tears. Food doesn’t taste good, I don’t crack a smile at jokes — nothing brings me joy. All because I won’t get to see the student plays that were supposed to go up this year at Brown University.
Without fail, tears start streaming down my face the moment my eyes open each morning.