Ode to Irby 233

Everything old really is new again. Not that Irby can ever really be considered new, but the sentiment stands. I’ve recently been informed by the ever-so-reliable Facebook that my old room has new, “smelly” inhabitants. I do, however, know these rascals and happen to enjoy the tales of their antics, which I’m sure will continue in the spaces that I and my 7 roommates used to call our own. Still…to be blunt: this is insanely weird. I mean, it feels like yesterday that I was lugging box upon suitcase upon suitcase – correction, Matt and Foster were lugging box upon suitcase, but that’s just semantics. Besides, I encouraged from afar.

It seemed like some distant omen hearing Chris call “dibs, bitches!” on my bed for next year. By the way, good luck with that….

Well, either way you slice this pie the Irby corner suite of old has become new again. We’ll miss the jungle, the days of the hammock, the welcome (and unwelcome) visitors at all hours, the constant notes of Miley and some good ol’ country flowing escaping through our door, the acoustics of the bathroom (ah-hem!), The List, our coloring book display, the reliability of the railing as you heaved the nights drinks into the leaves and the sun soaked floors that we used to bathe in sunlight – whoa, did I just make Irby sound glamorous? Peace out, Irby 233. Good times, good music and probably more memories than we can even try to remember. Oh and if the new tenants are reading this: If you guys happen to find my blue Thing 2 wig, keep it. While it has sentimental value, I’m pretty sure it’s also decaying and may be a health hazard. Cheers!

And now a quick trip down MemIRBY Lane…

Love you girls!

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