I thrust my ticket at the volunteer and headed for the facilities, only to find that there was one single washroom at which a small line had already formed. It was big, lovely, and fully accessible—the kind with a button to open the door and another one to lock it. But it was the only one.
Students moving into residence in January are not greeted with the enthusiasm that’s offered in September; there are no welcome events or free barbeques.
The centipede always waited until I was home alone to show itself. One night I was sitting on my yoga mat on the basement floor and had a thought: What if that centipede is here somewhere? Seconds later it appeared, right on cue.