Dear BYU On-Campus Housing,
(Specifically Heritage).
You were great, like John-Krasinksi-in-everything-he’s-been-in great.
Pro tip: Live six minutes away from campus so you can wake up at 7:52am and make it to an 8 o’clock class on time.
Dressed.
We shared The Dorm with four other girls who we made twin sandwiches with, real sandwiches with, and, at the end of the second semester, starved with in a mutual hungry companionship.
When empty, The Dorm looked like a sterile hospital room. This was mentioned to various roommates by various non-roommates. It was fixed by a quick trip to the DI and a print shop. Over time (i.e. two days after the Sterile Hospital Comment), it was cozy with dorm room classics like BYU Folk Dancing vinyl records and golf ball string lights.
Previously, while searching for a compliment, people would desperately land on, “It’s so clean,” as a last resort. After our HGTV makeover, they moved to, “You have so many roommate pictures.” The Dorm barely escaped being adorned with One Direction posters and instead, bravely bore numerous photos of a plaid and denim-clad family.
The Dorm endured a lot of music. The last three weeks of the second semester, it was 24/7 One Direction. Other times, you could walk down our one hallway and The Greatest Showman would be blaring from underneath the crack in the doors of the first bathroom, middle bedroom, and second bathroom.
We all religiously listened to music in the shower. “I’ve only listened to this song in the shower, and I had no idea those were the words or that they were bad,” was a frequent comment, because no matter how loud the music was, it was never loud enough.
The Dorm was the generous host of peanut butter toast parties and adventure planning meetings. Sometimes the two coincided like the Zions Camping trip turned peanut-butter toast party. The craving set in just after midnight. Our two-slot toaster has never been in higher demand.
Our planning would have halted, but we had to toast in shifts. Liesel– peanut butter and banana toast. Gwyneth–the same. Regan–the same. Kate–peanut butter and honey. Liesel–seconds.
The Beloved Barstools that these parties gravitated around, cemented friendships. We spent hours on them. We made frosting and decorated sugar cookies for all important holidays in a desperate excuse for treats. Thank goodness for good roommates who pounded on doors to warn you the oven timer was ringing. It was weak and could barely make it to the living room much less through the One Direction into our room.
The Beloved Barstools masqueraded as our TV stand in addition to a cement mixer for friendships. While a laptop masqueraded as our TV during the second semester. We placed the Beloved Barstool two feet away from the couch and fought for who got the privilege to rest their feet on the rungs. Subtitles were always present because the laptop speakers were inadequate despite the two feet. We converted (again) to Survivor and complained and strategized our way through the 36th season.
The Dorm was not a kid friendly place during cleaning checks. Because the smell of Costco-sized-bulk Clorox wipes permeating the air, damaging lungs. Pro-tip: Those will be the only cleaning supplies you need. They will take the place of mops, paper towels, and toilet cleaner. While you’re buying those, buy toilet paper because that runs out.
At the time, taking finals seemed easier than our last cleaning check. But we thank The Dorm, for the long peaceful times in between the cleaning checks, when it looked cleaner than it was. Our couch and speckled gray flooring were excellent stain-hiders. It was an unspoken rule (and spoken to visitors) that shoes were demanded in the kitchen.
We will remember fondly the wars that were fought with the dishes and the battlefield that was the thermostat.
We miss our humble abode and all the girls that willingly wore Tevas during a snowstorm for the sake of our family pictures.
Love,
Liesel and Gwyneth
HEY LIESEL & GWYN 