It’s spring and that means the burial of my sweaters and thick socks and the resurrection of my jorts and tanks (or whatever it is that I wear when it’s warm out…what do I wear when it’s warm out?)

In the spirit of spring cleaning, I thought I’d clear out some anecdotes from the catch-all note on my phone. Most of these are amusing but not enough to warrant a full post or just never relevant to any central theme. Some of these are many years old, so apologies if they’re a bit dusty.

Behold, the clutter:

The funny mental images bin:

• Empty bags of salt blowing across the road like Michigan tumble weeds
• What if a tub of spinach but it’s just one big folded up leaf?
• Saw a sign by the highway: “Leaf blowers all types. Are you ready?”

The “Why, God, why?” drawer:

• Beanies but with a hard brim like a baseball hat.
• A guy who only wrote “2” in his Computer Science notes… blank page… nothing else.
• That time I gave a speech wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and as I got started I began to roll/cuff the sleeve like I was a politician at a barbecue.
• That time I was making lunch (quesadilla) and put the tortilla between my knees to hold it while I grabbed something else. An inexplicable and unacceptable instinct.

A poster with a funny quote from my mom:

• “They had a crummy little pond that every once in a while they’d throw someone in.” (Reminiscing about her summer camp.)

A crumpled up pamphlet in defense of weathermen:

• People crap on weathermen when they predict too much snow or not enough rain or change the prediction percentages during the course of the day. But when you think about it, it’s a crazy job. The fact that we can have a fourteen day forecast that is close to accurate is complete witchcraft a few centuries ago. Romans were sacrificing birds to figure that stuff out; let’s give the miracle man a break if we get two inches of snow instead of the six they predicted eight days ago.

And a treasured souvenir from college:

• My favorite day of the semester was bingo night at the dining hall. I didn’t win a prize until my final semester, but that’s not my best bingo memory. That award goes to one very special day when after one table on the other side of the room won for the third time in a row, a guy near me slams down his fists, stands up, and yells out: “I’M REVOLTING.” Don’t be so hard on yourself my guy, I’m sure you’re great.

It feels great to have that cleared out. Thanks for sitting there while I dug those all out of my closet—we’ll ignore the bits that didn’t even warrant this level of exposure. Maybe next year I’ll have a yard sale for notes I don’t even remember the meaning of.

Christina Ribbens

Christina Ribbens (’19) studied history, studio art, and data science at Calvin and public humanities at Georgetown. She now lives in the part of Virginia that’s almost Washington, DC where she helps award grants to arts nonprofits. She takes a lot of walks to admire the landscaping in peoples’ front yards, mostly listens to British comedians’ podcasts, and likes to make friends via sports.