In times of desperation, when even the library doesn’t seem worthy of the magnitude of my task list, I turn to the Science Building.
Strange, I know; I am more out of place here than I am anywhere else on campus. Further, the place is a maze. I’ve gotten lost several times, often finding myself at dead ends, being glared at by stuffed snowy owls or plaster dinosaur skulls.
But still, there’s something intriguing about a building sprinkled with mysterious labs and smelling faintly of formaldehyde. That is why, perhaps, I seem to do my best last-minute cramming here. It’s as if the alienness of the building frightens me into submission. Or something like that.
Anyway, the specific spot in the building I tend to gravitate to is beside the snakes. The snakes are named 8 Ball and Ramses, respectively, and when I’m not cranking out history flashcards or Icelandic Sagas papers, I’m staring at the dear reptiles, hoping they’ll move.
They usually don’t.