The seven stages of grief: housing lottery edition

Friday, a.k.a. the day of the housing lottery, a.k.a. the day of the reveal of information that would determine your social life and levels of happiness for the entire 2019-2020 academic year, was a moment we had all been waiting for. When it finally came, you opened your computer and clicked on that golden email, praying to get a green light for a massive double on Wriston. Then you realized that your worst fears had come true. You weren't just on the second page, or the third, or the fourth, or even the fifth. You were on the very last.Last-pagers, my sincere condolences. But take solace in the fact that this post is for you! Welcome to the seven stages of grief, housing lottery style.   Stage 1: ShockYou simply can't believe it. You slam your computer screen. You throw your laptop to the ground (then quickly pick it up and pray that you didn’t break it). Taking a deep breath, you open it once again stare really, really closely at your email. Maybe you’re just reading it wrong. Maybe Mom was right and you should've scheduled that eye doctor appointment over winter break. But alas, as time goes on, you start to slowly realize that you really did read it right the first time. You aggressively slam your computer shut, again. Stage 2: DenialLast page for the lottery? It can’t be! What are the odds? Maybe this year they’re counting backwards, you tell yourself. That’s surely what’s happened! You breathe a sigh of relief, content with the knowledge that you’re actually on the first page. Wow, what a dream! You're ready to strut down Thayer like you own it and get that Ratty "Mac Attack" pizza without thinking of the stomachache you’ll have right after, because you are flying high, baby! Stage 3: AngerUnfortunately, you’ve been informed by Res Life that they are, in fact, counting forwards this year. Your blood begins to pulse. How could Brown betray you like this? You applied ED, you offered to host for ADOCH, you even signed a waiver allowing your photo to be used for promotional content despite the fact that you're incredibly un-photogenic! What more could you have given? Stage 4: BargainingYou start offering everything you’ve got. An extra meal wipe, a Spring Weekend ticket, a piggyback ride up College Hill, a hand-delivered batch of PVD donuts, even your beloved Brown pennant from the time you walked through the Van Wickle Gates freshman year — you'll give anything! Shockingly, despite your offers, no one agrees to trade numbers with you. Stage 5: DepressionIt’s been three days and all you’ve eaten is Ratty cottage cheese. You haven’t changed clothes, and you haven't showered. Friends have come to visit but they’re not quite sure what to say. Sorry, pal. Better luck next year! My friend was in Perkins last year and she kind of liked it by the end. Man, what are the odds? Ha, less than 1 in 1,000!  Stage 6: TestingYou’ve got to do something, so you sit down and assess your options. Soon, you realize that there's really only one.  Stage 7: AcceptanceAfter finally accepting that you're doomed to be in Perkins, you’ll spend an afternoon taking a lovely stroll to see your future home (yes, it'll take all afternoon). It’ll be just warm enough that you can go without a jacket, which is good because the long walk is making you sweat (this is more exercise than you’ve done all semester). Through the trees you’ll just make out the beautiful silhouette of Brown's least-beloved building. She’s short and stout and quite un-tasteful, but you know that soon, she'll be the place you call home. Images via and via.