Exceptions

It's 12:30 on a Thursday night. Most of Bellingham is out at the bars, or playing beer pong with friends in someone's garage. I'm not among them. Instead, I've settled onto the couch in the living room, my textbook and notes and computer and calculator sprawled in a mess at my feet. There's a cup of Kenny's Signature Coffee, strong enough to hold a coffee stirrer upright, nestled precariously over my practice exams. My studio headphones, second hand from an older brother, are plugged into my laptop. Bob Seger tells me about his night moves while I attempt to figure out statistics. It's not fun, not by any stretch of the definition, but it's oddly satisfying. This is an evening that I will look back on and be glad that I experienced it.
Now if only I could stop losing my goddamn eraser every time I set it down.