One more reason that Noah is the best boyfriend in the entire world:
Thursday night sucked. I had a 2.5 hour lecture capped off by a ridiculously hard finance test that almost made me cry. After absolutely bombing this three-question test (on which I very much doubt I will get even half of one question correct)*, I waited twenty-five minutes for a bus, stomped up the stairs in a fit, and while putting my key in the door, thought 'BOOZE. NOW.'
I open the door to find Noah standing there, offering me a full glass of cava and a fancy-meat-and-cheese plate he'd put together. It did nothing to reassure me that I am not going to fail Finance, but it did make the rest of the night pass in a happy, wine-and-prosciutto soft-focus kind of way.
*I am resigned to admitting my brain's defeat in the area of math. I barely scraped by with a B in Statistics last quarter, and I would very much like not to lose my scholarship by getting C's in all upcoming math/finance classes. So, I ignored the screaming voice of pride in my head, and spent Saturday looking around for a tutor. Not only will I have to shell out upwards of $25/hr to be reminded that numbers and my brain do not enjoy each others' company, I will have to hear the cackling laughs of my entire extended family in my brain- finance majors, all. I am proof that the Financial Genius Gene has the ability to skip over family members randomly.
Also, my sore and scratchy throat on Friday has become more inflamed and uncomfortable over the weekend, despite my regular applications of hot tea and gobs of honey. I'm going to sit around in my fluffy robe and slippers, sipping endless hot beverages, and POUT, goddamnit.