Farewell Lyons Hall
Molly Sammon | Thursday, November 11, 2010
It’s horrifying to think that the number of times I’ll be walking under the Lyons arch and scanning into the building I’ve called home is limited to the five remaining weeks of this semester.
There are plenty of things I’ll miss about that place: having my closest friends down the hall, down the stairs, being next door to the Rock and Joey, the stuffed Lion.
There are also plenty of things I won’t miss: the closet-sized dorm rooms, heaters with a deafening clang that all seem to go off at the same time and the dated, brownish glow of the interior decoration that characterizes any building older than my grandparents.
Though the benefits of sororitized living outweigh any negatives that come with the age of the building, I’m sure there are many reasons Lyons is ready to see me go.
I should start off by apologizing to each of my neighbors for my alarm clock every morning. I know it’s amazing that I cannot ever hear it, even though I’m sure it would wake up most people on campus if it were placed on the 50-yard line of Notre Dame Stadium. For this, a sole apology will have to suffice, so I am sorry for any morning aggravation this may have caused you guys in Lyons, and possibly a few in Morrissey too.
I should also apologize for that time I put my popcorn in the microwave for five minutes instead of two because I accidentally pressed the wrong button and my slightly dyslexic brain did not pick up on the error. I guess this was less of an inconvenience to you guys as it was to the Notre Dame Fire Department that had to spend a good amount of their day sifting through the layers of smoke that enveloped the first floor and part of the second. For that event I am sorry, and I never did try making popcorn again.
This might also be a good time to say sorry about the time I left my grab n’ go in the trash can too long, or the drying racks I’ve left in the hallway too long, for all the late nights where I forgot my ID card and stayed inside the foyer banging on the door until someone woke up. I’m sorry for my New York Times subscription that clogs up the mailroom. I’m sorry for stealing the leftover salad from the Mara Fox dinner without asking anyone if that was okay.
One thing you guys can thank me for is for single-handedly disproving the old tale that you have to marry the person you kiss under the Lyons arch — I can’t afford to have that many weddings.
Looking at off-campus houses lately and all the paperwork, check-writing, research, kissing-up to parents or landlords and paying my own bills, I’ve come to realize that I’ve had it pretty easy in Lyons.
The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
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