So. Last week was pretty eventful.
As you might have guessed, I got inducted into Servants of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus on Monday night. The only thing that could have made that more awesome would have been if Tantum Ergo had inducted Scott. As is, he gets to call himself The Last Sacramental and we get to have another induction party next semester. Two parties are better than one, right?
Then on Wednesday we (me, Scott, some household brothers and sisters) went out to celebrate the induction of the second-to-last Sacramental. That was kind of fun, although the music was so loud that it precluded conversation. I like parties where I can talk.
On Friday Scott and I went to Open Mic again, but for various reasons we didn't stay long. Instead we found a bench outside my dorm and just sat there for about 45 minutes. We talked a little bit, but not more than half a dozen sentences in the whole time. I've discovered in my relationship with Scott that it is really fun to be able to talk to people, but even more fun when you don't have to talk; when you can just enjoy each other's presence.
On Saturday we Did Not Go To Formal. Our rationale was thus: I do not like dances. My date does not like dances. Why would we go to a dance?
However, I am not so aloof that I am entirely immune to the lure of Formal. When everybody else is getting ready and I'm sitting by myself doing homework, I forget that I don't like dances. So instead of sitting by myself doing homework, I went over to Scott's dorm and we camped out in a common room to have a little geek party. He tried to teach me how to dance (with little success; I have no sense of rhythm whatsoever), we played Scrabble (we tied--seriously), we read lots and lots of Calvin and Hobbes (comic books kindly lent by my household coordinator).
We also talked some. I drew a picture of a horse while waiting for Scott to take his turns at Scrabble and once I was done asked what I should name it. He said Cauliflower. I begged to differ as to the suitability of that name. Shortly thereafter I spelt equid on a double-word-score box and was so proud of myself that I dubbed my sketched equid "Scrabble". Scott wanted to know why that was a better name than Cauliflower. There was some other stuff that I forget, and then I told him that he should not be responsible for naming things. To which he replied that he still thinks it would be fun to have triplets named Faith, Hope, and Charity. To which I replied that I just won't have triplets and then we won't have to disagree. Objectively speaking, however, I probably shouldn't be responsible for naming things either. Although I am quite adamantly against having theological-virtue triplets, I do like Philomena (another of Scott's suggestions) and I really want a daughter named Brigid. She'll be in therapy by the time she's 40 from trying to convince people that the g is hard. My poor, poor children.
As you are picturing this in your heads, dear readers, you must also picture the RA popping in every hour or so just to check up on us. That's what RAs do, after all. Also there was one point at which we got hungry so we walked down to the JC and got sandwiches and smoothies. Scott wanted to pay for it but didn't have quite enough cash on hand. I would have made up the few dollars still necessary but I didn't have enough small bills. So I gave the cashier my 20 and then Scott and I engaged in complicated moneychanging that satisfied us but probably confused the cashier. Oh well. What with it being Formal night and all he probably hadn't had any customers the whole night. We made his shift interesting.
So, dear readers, I ask you: If you had the choice between going to a dance and spending the night in the manner outlined above, would you not choose the above? If your answer is "no"...well, that's why I'm the one dating Scott and you're not. So we're both happy.
*title courtesy of Hobbes