Friday? Really?

Well, we survived the first week. As far as I know, no one cried in class.

Wednesday afternoon, as we were enjoying the brownies and champagne our fabulous peer advisers had provided as an End of Day One party, someone said that it felt like we'd just spent three days in school instead of one. Yesterday was also tough--four of our five classes met--but today was a two-class day, and things are beginning to feel slightly better. We've had all of our classes at least once (Contracts three times), class elections, library orientation, the first cold call, our first Bar Review, and an ice cream social. Tonight brings a potluck dinner; next Saturday will be our tubing excursion. The social calendar is, in a word, packed.

Apparently, one of the upperclassmen takes off time every weekend--from Friday at 5 p.m. to Sunday at 2 p.m.--but I'm settling for spending a few hours in front of the TV. I find that I've appreciated quality vegging more in the last two days than I have in a while.

School's great--the classes are interesting and the reading gets better after the Latin begins to make sense--but those who say that law school is like high school are on to something. We have lockers (mine's at the other end of the building from my first class), we pack lunches, and, for some of us, the book bags are coming out of storage. For me, it's the L. L. Bean, circa 2000, with--yes--the monogram. Sexy? No, but it's almost large enough to hold all my books and it's saving my back.

In other ways, though, this week at school has reminded me so much of undergrad. There's the question script--name, hometown, college, section, rinse, repeat--the activities fair next week, and the bowl of candy in the office. Sadly, my bursar billing privileges have gone by the wayside, but I'll say that the bookstore here is so much more efficient than the B&N at Yale ever was, and they sell bags of Haribo, besides.

Speaking of undergrad, 2013 arrives this weekend, and the grocery store was packed this afternoon. I saw just enough of the Bed, Bath, and Beyond to know I wanted absolutely no part of that store until at least Monday--releasing the frosh is never a simple affair--and even if the crowds hadn't been a giveaway, the three Penske trucks parked nearby spoke of nervous parents and clueless newbies. Here's to not living in the dorms!