The first-year residence experience has come to an abrupt halt—residence is asking those who are able to leave by March 22 due to the spread of Coronavirus, and most students are already packing their bags and heading home.

Some people’s reaction to this news was to trash their residence buildings—on my floor, someone sprayed the fire extinguisher all over our common room and punched a hole in the bathroom door. I, on the other hand, found myself sitting in my room, staring at a wall and reflecting on my experience in Gordon Brockington House. 

I forgot about the aversion I had toward many aspects of living in residence, overcome with the feeling that I just wasn’t ready for this experience to end.

I was experiencing a phenomenon often called “graduation goggles,” which is the nostalgic feeling someone has about a time in their life when it’s about to end, even if that time was truly awful. Suddenly, all the miseries of residence seemed brighter.

My mourning was cut short, however, by a 1 a.m. fire alarm. I’m thankful for this fire alarm because it gave me a sense of clarity. It cut through the fog of nostalgia and knocked off my graduation goggles. It made me realize that there are things I’ll miss about res, but also a lot of things I won’t.

Now, I bid farewell to the good (and the bad) of residence life. 

Things I’ll miss

Farewell, Ban Righ’s incredible playlist. You made my mornings, adding flavour to the very bad, oddly small mugs of coffee I sipped. I couldn’t help but quietly bop in my chair when you played “There She Goes,” which will always remind me of the first season of Gilmore Girls, or songs I hadn’t heard since seventh grade, like OneRepublic’s “Counting Stars,” or the everlasting classic, “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).”

Farewell, dining hall waffles. You were the best edible substance residence offered. You reminded me of the family vacations I spent at Hilton hotels and the excitement I felt seeing that very specific waffle maker at the buffet each morning. I only regret not sprinkling chocolate chips into the batter earlier in the year. 

Farewell, my room. You were my sanctuary, the one space that was truly mine. I made you so damn cozy, with my stacks of books, collection of photos of my high school friends, and poster wall curtesy of the BioSci poster sale. I hope your next tenant doesn’t tear you to shreds. 

Last, farewell to the chicken snacker wraps at Lazy. You’ll always have my heart.

Things I won’t miss

Farewell, Sundays, when communal bathrooms were nothing short of disgusting. The shenanigans of Friday and Saturday nights—plus the absence of cleaning until late Monday afternoon—made you an absolute horror. I will not miss the garbage mountain that accumulated around the garbage can each and every week. 

Farewell, sleepless nights courtesy of my floormates, who didn’t stop blasting their terrible music until dawn. Farewell, incredibly thin walls that made this problem so much worse. Farewell, sore arms that ached from a night of clutching my pillow against my ear in a fruitless attempt to drown out the noise. I cannot wait to get my eight hours of sleep back.

Farewell, the Awkward Shuffle. I use this term to describe what you have to do when you want to take a shower but your floormates choose to convene right in front of the communal bathroom. I will not miss making the harrowing journey past them clad in a bathrobe, desperately trying not to make eye contact.

While a part of me is sad to lose the last three weeks in this hellhole, I’m ready to let it go. 

Farewell, Gord Brock.