I'm finished. With classes. With my first year of graduate school. I'm terrible at disconnect. I know it's over, but I can't move on so easily. I take a while to decompress. I wind myself up pretty tightly at the end, and all that tension doesn't just disappear; I have to work it out over days of deep breathing and silent reassurances that I did turn in the right paper (as opposed to an earlier draft, which I'm always afraid of doing).
Right now I'm trying to dig my apartment out from under a month of neglect. I'm studiously not watering my plants, and avoiding cooking at almost all costs.
I need to choose my summer reading goal, but, right now, at least for the next few days, I have no interest in the written word. All I am interested in is stuff that is awesome: episodes of seinfeld, slurpies, icees, chocolate peanut butter ice cream cakes, loose waistbands, and cold water.