I'm lying on my bed sans pants (after a stretch of the greyest, most depressing weather that's lasted for most of this year it got really nice but really hot on Tuesday) in a post-finals haze and not remembering a single thing about Lord Byron or late 19th-century novels. I'm not even sure I remember how to spell "Dracula" after writing it so many times. Clearly this is all a sign that exams are over. More to the point, it's a sign that my time at Reading as an undergrad is unofficially over. It's taking a while to sink in, frankly, but I do feel better for my double-threat exam day being out of the way. The "oh god what do I do with myself am I seriously going to get a masters degree what's wrong with me" part can wait.
It does, however, throw into sharp perspective the fact that I only have a year remaining in close proximity to continental Europe so I'd better get my butt in gear if I'm going to finally get over there. (This means you, milkcracker. Where should I see in Germany?) More immediately, I'm looking forward to seeing sunshine_shaman when she has a moment out of her studies of all things awesome and London. Even more immediately, now to eat a chicken wrap and spend the rest of the day chillaxing.