Day 25: They're writing songs of love

So far, three of seven schools have sent out their admits, but not for me. (Clearly, I'm the next George Gershwin, people.)

I ran to a dear, dear prof to rant about this wait.
The adorable prof: "Well, wait until the end of March. And if there's still nothing...."
Me: "I can come running in, throw myself on your couch and bawl?"
The adorable prof: (Guffawning). Yes, you may. But it won't come to that.

All positivist things aside, all it takes is one admit. All I'm asking for is four. That's it.

Anywhoo, this apparently is the long, dark teatime of the soul, not to be confused with Teatime.