Yesterday, I caught up with a good friend from college. After our conversation, I started wondering. What happened to my old roommate? Once the kids were in bed, I went through the usual channels - Facebook and Google. The results were very interesting.
I am pretty sure that my college roommate, the one who didn't wear underwear for two years and dressed in leggings and sweatshirts with the collars cut off over tank tops, the one who kept a list of the guys she had been with, the one who took pride in "corrupting" me, is a doctor. A physical therapist and a friggin' doctor.
Don't get me wrong, I am really happy for her. I remember the last time I saw her, at a friend's wedding, she mentioned that she was going to go back to school for physical therapy. I think it's fantastic that she has found a career path in which she's thriving.
But now I feel like a slacker.
I think perhaps a Ph. D. may be in my future. Just to prove to myself that I can get one.
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