Post-Truro Reality

Today is the last day of my 4 week vacation from working on my thesis. Time to start working like a God damn dog for the next 3 months.

This was a fairly epic Truro. No photos to come. No explanations pending. Truro is an experiences best limited to the bar(n).

That said, it has reminded me that I desperately need to get back in shape.

Resolution: no more booze until I finish my thesis + exercise of some variety every single day.

No lie.

This is what is so hard about post-Truro reality. You look forward to it ever since Christmas ends, then the weekend comes and then it is gone. It is as heartbreaking as that moment on Christmas day when you realize that it's time to start throwing out all the wrapping paper. But Truro seems especially hard, because every Christmas you know you will be seeing your family. Truro runs the gambit. And this year could be my last. Eventually I may be too old to binge drink and hit on 17 year-old boys while playing some truly gritty rugby. And Truro is, as my last comment indicates, a physically close experience. I want to be snuggling everyone I am mildly acquainted with right this instant. But alas, instead I have rug burn and work to do, not to mention a cold and alienating city to return home to.

fuck rug burn.