Oh, Matt Smith.

Sometimes I forget how funny you are. I know you hate it when I describe you to people as being The Funniest Person I Know, or more often The Funniest Person in the World, but I give credit where credit is due. You have the unique curse of being able to make just about any situation seem both plausible and entertaining...
Wednesday night after Medieval Drama, Monica English and I headed off to the South Side via the stairs. Monica LOVES the stairs. She is the Stair Queen. I've told her several times how ridiculous it is to take the stairs to the South Side, especially when we're leaving Fisher Hall, but we go anyway. (I think it'd be easier -- and considerably less hilly -- if we just took the elevators to the ground floor and walked through the Armstrong Tunnels. And I guess one could say that I LOVE the Armstrong Tunnels, that I am the Tunnel Queen -- judging by the number of times I've mentioned them in my past few musings -- but, you know... whatever.)
So anyway, we're walking uphill to go downhill -- another reason taking the stairs is stupid and wrong -- and we cross the little metal death-bridge that leads to the stairs. All of a sudden, we're there at the very top of this long, killer set of stairs, and the wind is careening towards us. I swear to God, both of us were trying to take the first step down the stairs, and neither one of us could move our legs... So there we are, at the top of the stairs, not moving. That must have gone on for at least a minute before we could move -- and before we realized how stupid we must have looked.
And while we were walking, Monica looked at me and said, "You know, I wish Matt were around to tell this story."
Well, yeah. Me, too. My telling of it really paled in comparison, I suppose. Maybe at some point, you could pretend to be me and go back in time to that precise moment (I guess you'd have to ask Monica to go with you, and I don't know if she'd be entirely up for that... she's a busy girl), and then you could write it down for me, so I can remember it the way I'd like to.
At any rate -- I'm going to go pop some Advil. Graduating's giving me a migraine.

Love,
Meredith