In every life stage, I’ve always loved sophomore year. Hopefully I didn’t already lose you because obviously, senior year’s inherent assumption of the proverbial throne, junior year’s ascent into the upper caste and even freshman year’s Holden Caulfield-like age of innocence are all notable in their own right.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy my current living situation. Actually, no. Love my living situation. I live with 4 college friends, 3 of whom I’ve lived with for the better part of the last 6 years. We have a huge, albeit frequently messy, house. We have no neighbors. We have enough parking. We have a laissez-faire landlord. A “young professional frat house” as it’s been graciously been called.