That might be an understatement.

On a typical day, I leave my house around 7:30 and drive to Chestertown while listening to BBC on satellite radio. Before this daylight savings time nonsense it was News Hour, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I suppose I’ll get used to the news program that is on after that, though today it was a lot of feature stories that were long and boring. Anyway, I drive to Chestertown and always get there 10 minutes later than I’m aiming for because I inevitably get behind a dump truck or tractor.

I work for several hours doing things I enjoy (for the most part). I am very lucky, actually. My job is pretty cool. I get to work on social media initiatives, do research, coordinate things and fill in the cracks when other people in the office need help. I’ve been compared to a swiss army knife.

Lunch is either at my desk or in the dining hall. Once in awhile I will go to the shopping center and pick up something at Rose’s on my lunch break. A floor mat. Scrubbing bubbles. Halloween makeup. But if I’m eating lunch at my desk, I am likely doing homework. That’s right, I’m still taking classes at Saint Joe’s. After this, I will only have one more semester.

I work a few more hours and then I bolt, typically at 4:30. Last week I had to stay later a couple of nights. It happens. I’m okay with that happening.

Another hour-long commute home, this time usually fighting off sleep. I will call my Mom or listen to Bloc Party at obscenely high volumes to stay awake.

Dan and I eat dinner, sit on the sofa, and go to bed. There’s usually some more homework in there. Sometimes there’s laundry.

So, I really don’t have a valid excuse for my lack of posting. I’m going to try to get better about that. Promise.

You see, I’ve been freelancing at my old job from college since we moved to Maryland two and a half weeks ago. So, when the earthquake hit, I was sitting alone in an office on the top floor of Bunting Hall at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland.

In college, it was not uncommon to hear testing at Aberdeen Proving Ground, which is located across the Chesapeake Bay. My first thought, as the shaking started, was that it must be something over there. As it got worse, I was worried that the construction in front of the building had gone horribly wrong. Only near the end of the earthquake, as the bookcase in the corner rattled and the plastic of the copier down the hall creaked did I think, “This is an earthquake,” and move to the doorway of the office.

Reports say the earthquake was only twenty seconds. It felt much longer.

Other confused faces poked their faces into the hall from their doorways. We looked at each other in bewilderment. The consensus seemed to be to go outside, so I followed. I tried to text Dan, but it didn’t go through right away. Eventually he got back to me and said, “You had a tremor too?” It turned out that 50 miles away, he’d been evacuated from his building as well.

Thankfully, it was a beautiful day to stand outside for 45 minutes. The College decided to send nonessential staff home. I listened to CNN and other news stations on satellite radio as I drove an hour back to our apartment and tried to wrap my head around what happened.

I still don’t think I completely understand.

Now it’s time to prepare for a hurricane. These things seem so alien to write about as a Pennsylvanian/Marylander.

The month of May marks the end of an era; not only am I graduating from this wonderful institution (god-willing), but my BFF, Rory Gilmore will also be graduating from Yale and possibly leaving the airwaves of CW forever.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that there may not be an eighth season of The Gilmore Girls; besides, next year, just like Rory, I’m supposed to be a grown up with a job and some sort of future.  I know she’s been interviewing at all sorts of newspapers across the country, and I’m very excited for her.  I probably won’t be able to afford cable, so I will rely on my set of Gilmore DVDs to sustain me while I do homework as I work toward a master of arts in teaching (again, god-willing) and wonder why I chose to attempt certification to teach high school English before realizing that I’m not a fictional character who attended an Ivy League University.  Deep breath.  If Rory can graduate, I can, too.  After all, she’s a communications major but I’ve not seen her take one journalism class.  Sure, she writes for and served as editor of The Yale Daily News, and she had that internship, but I’ve only seen her in a few classes over the years, and none of them taught her how to write a good lead or get a decent job.  And why isn’t she going to graduate school?  She has enough money.  They could easily stretch out this show as long as 7th Heaven without all the stupid plot twists if they put Rory in a graduate program at Yale.

I know Rory has a bright future, whether it play out on The CW or in the fan fiction that probably exists all over the internet.  She and I have been tight since my sophomore year of high school when my friend Megan (who actually exists) told me about this show that reminded her of my mother and me.  Syndication and TV on DVD made me this way, though.  While living on my own over the summer, I often spent the evenings in Stars Hollow when I should have read Shakespeare, because Rory and Paris performing Act V of Romeo and Juliet totally counted as studying for my then-far-away comprehensive exams.  I often pop in a season of the show as background noise while I’m doing schoolwork or trying to drown out the drunks in my hall; thus, I’ve been with Rory through various academic achievements and personal traumas too many times to count.  I probably remember what has happened to her better than she does at this point.  The Gilmore Girls is essentially a part of who I am, and sometimes people look at me strangely when I reference an event that took place in Stars Hollow with the authority of someone who was there.

By now, you probably think that I’m a wack job.  My obsession with Lorelai and Rory is justifiable, though. My life mirrors Rory’s, and I’m not just saying this because I’m completely obsessed.  My mother and I really are best friends even though there’s a greater age difference between us; plus, like Lorelai, she’s my biggest supporter and my number one fan.  Rory’s father flaked out when she was in high school but started to redeem himself once she went to college, just like mine.  Rory freaked out and took a semester off from college, I spent a semester at Lebanon Valley College for financial and personal reasons. Rory and I are totally twins, and she’s always there for me.  When something bad happened with one of my relationships, I’d remember some tribulation Rory faced and find courage to continue on.  She and I went through relationships with good boys and bad boys; I felt her pain when Jess bailed, wanted to smack her face with that whole Dean thing, and I’m still not sure how I feel about Logan. And for the record, I can’t come right out and say anything that happened after Rory graduated high school because I’m currently spreading the obsession to one of my favorite professors.

What makes The Gilmore Girls so wonderful, and its impending series finale so tragic, is how the characters become like family to those who tune in.  I feel like part of me lives in Stars Hollow, even though I have only spent under five days of time with the folks who live there (assuming I did the math correctly).  I’ve grown up so much since the show came on the air in 2000, and I can put in season 1 and see myself reflected in those big blue eyes any time I need to remember my own roots.  Saying goodbye to the girls is going to be saying goodbye to a wonderful yet turbulent stage in my own life, sealing it in cardboard DVD cases forever.  I’ll miss them, but I’ll know that Rory is doing well at whatever paper she ends up gracing with her presence, and I’ll hope that Lorelai finally makes things work with Luke, aka the only man that is right for her.  When I’m at the bar, I’ll play “Walk Like an Egyptian” on the jukebox and remember the concert that Lorelai and Sookie took Rory and her new Chilton pals to in the first season.  I hope that Miss Patty, Babette, Taylor, Lane and especially Kirk, will keep a relationship with “the business we call show” so that I can see them on Law & Order or in a small movie roll and clap like an excited toddler.  If I end up needing surgery some day, I’ll pray that my surgeon’s collegiate life wasn’t akin to that of Rory’s mildly psychotic, uptight roommate, Paris—hopefully no one sees her and thinks “twins!” the way I do when I see Rory.  And I’ll think of Richard and Emily, Rory’s grandparents, on the holidays, and hope that they’re all sharing a fine meal with a nice bottle of wine.  After graduation, they may be gone from television, but I will have seven years of memories with the Gilmore Girls, and they will always color who I have become.

Sunday morning came far too fast. We woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, and when I emerged from the bathroom, my birthday presents were waiting for me on the bed. Dan, of course, did a fabulous job. He framed a picture of us before our He Said Beer / She Said Wine dinner and one of my favorite pictures that he took on one of our outings (and he got frames that were my style, too). He also got me the Dandy Warhols vinyl that I had drooled over–and it’s signed! The mix CD that came as part of my gift beat the mix I’d made him in August, but I wouldn’t know that until the drive home from his house that evening.

Breakfast was delicious again, and Dan found the berry bread pudding particularly enjoyable. I’m not a berry person, but I appreciated that it was a treat for those who were. Neither of us are really outgoing around strangers, so we mostly listened to conversations at breakfast rather than starting them. Sure, when someone spoke to us, we would answer, but we didn’t go out of our way to be chatty. This was, after all, our first bed and breakfast experience. We’ll work on that. People automatically assumed we lived together and were somewhat perplexed when we independently answered the “where are you from?” question.

Before we left, we wanted to try our luck with the dock again. We grabbed our books and headed down to the bay. The chairs on the dock were still damp with dew, but we sat on the platform and read in the peaceful morning sunshine, savoring every last moment we could. We watched swans and sailboats in the distance, and noticed bald eagles flying overhead. We were alone, but surrounded by the warmth of nature. The beauty was practically spiritual. Sounds kind of corny, but to me, it was surreal. I should note that Dan is part of the reason I appreciate nature so much. Around the time we started dating, I was going hiking a lot and I’m not sure if it was subconsciously done to try to impress him or because I was stircrazy from unemployment. He’s also done wonders for me to stop hating bugs. So to be sitting with him on the edge of the Chesapeake was wonderful, even when I knew there was a huge spider living on a web below the dock.

Of course our vacation had to end eventually… We hauled our bags out to the car after coming back from the dock with rosy sunburned cheeks. We shyly approached our innkeepers to pay our bill and were greeted warmly. I’m not really a “hugger,” but I accepted hugs from Joann and Jim with only mild awkwardness. They chatted with us a bit, and–like people at breakfast–were surprised that we don’t actually live together. I guess to a girl like me, it seems nice that I can be mistaken for someone who’s engaged or married or at least living with someone. It does help me feel as though I might actually be 25. Our hosts asked us to write about our stay on TripAdvisor, and I’ve been drafting a post for quite some time. I genuinely want to promote their establishment because the atmosphere was so much warmer than anywhere else we may have considered staying. We said our goodbyes to our hosts, and as we walked out to the car, we paused to say goodbye to the dogs.

Since I hadn’t given Dan a glimpse of anything in Chestertown save a quick walk around campus and my friend Sarah’s yard, we made a few stops there before heading home. We drove through the downtown area where a lot of change had occured since my time as a student. The biggest change being the closing of my favorite bar, which is another story for another time. One of our stops included campus so I could see my “little sister.” She was laying on the green with her friends and while we talked, the awkward feeling came back. At 25, I didn’t belong on that college campus anymore. I felt like I’d outgrown it. Lunch at one of my favorite strip mall restaurants, Luisa’s, was also a little bit awkward for me, although I definitely ate a ton of my favorite seafood marinara.

The whole experience, in retrospect, was bittersweet. Mostly sweet. Every moment spent with Dan in Rock Hall was special, even when we walked back to my car after our sunset cruise to see that we’d left my headlights on. I can truly say that every moment we were there was a happy one. However, being with him also made me realize that my life is completely different now. It’s not even the milestone birthday, it’s just who I am.

When we finally arrived at the bed and breakfast, I tried to shake the foul mood that Chestertown’s changes had caused. The long driveway led up to a beautiful house, and as we pulled into a parking space, the awkward kicked in. did we go in the front door? How do we announce ourselves? Questions even Google can’t answer always rush into my head at inopportune times; they make interacting in the real world difficult because while I’m really just petrified with fear over doing or saying the wrong thing, it often comes across as rudeness. Luckily, in this case, there were three dogs to announce our arrival and one of the innkeepers–Jim–was quick to intercept us and give us a tour. He greeted Dan as the “person who asked the most pre-stay questions ever.” In Dan’s defense, most of the questions were mine. I’d started having nerves about the trip as soon as I’d given my credit card information, and Dan swooped in to help ease my overactive imagination’s fears.

The property of the Inn at Huntingfield Creek was absolutely gorgeous even though our stay fell on the cusp of fall. The path to the dock was bordered by soybeans and sunflowers. The field of sunflowers–probably majestic in the summer–were going to seed. The leaves of the trees were threatening to change colors, and some crunched under our feet. Inside, our room looked just as it did online. We had a large bed an an antique bathtub. The blue was rich and gave the room a relaxing vibe. Since it was too early for dinner, we thought we’d take our books down to the bay to enjoy the sunset. We set out, Dan with his Nikon and me with Sedars and King in my purse. The walk took us through those fields and a wooded area before opening up to bay grasses. However, the Chesapeake was so happy to see us that it tried to come up to greet us; the water had cut off access to the dock, and mocked us by seeping up further as we stood there. We returned an hour later after settling for secluded chairs by the pond and the scene was worse. Fish swam in the path, and our shoes squished in the grass. The sunset was breathtaking, and it symbolized that we needed to grab food. At the advice of our innkeepers, we went to a local restaurant called Harbor Shack for dinner. My entrée was basic, but our appetizer was scrumptious. I wanted to give myself a facial with that crab dip! After dinner, we drove to the ice cream shop down town, debating its hours and where to park. A young girl scooped our Butterfinger cones and gave me a cup of water after overhearing me talking about needing to take a pill. she complimented the purse Kate bought me in New Zealand, prompting me to make awkward conversation.

One of the many great things about the bed and breakfast was the bed. Aside from the down duvets (which I discovered I was allergic to), there was a cozy quilt and fluffy pillows. And because our room didn’t have an actual TV, we watched an episode of Fringe on Dan’s laptop and settled in for a night of serious slumber. There’s something to be said for not having a television available; we slept soundly in complete peace without any distraction. In the morning, we could hear movement downstairs and smell bacon cooking. It was a gentle way to wake up compared to the screeching cell phone alarm I’m used to. The spread at breakfast was impressive. Breakfast basics–bacon, eggs, toast–a coffee streusel, a peach/basil bake and chicken sausage, The following morning, we were greeted with the same basics and Joanne’s famous berry bread pudding. To this day, I regret taking only one helping each morning.

Our Saturday plans weren’t too strict. The only thing we had scheduled was a sunset cruise around the bay at 6:15. We decided to explore the nature preserve on Eastern Neck Island with Dan’s camera and some binoculars. We started at the visitors’ center where we picked up a map. Behind the building there was a short path that ended with a observation blind in a wooded area from which we could see the bay and the bay bridge. Perhaps in a different season, this area would be teeming with wildlife, but today it was fairly quiet. I used Dan’s Nikon binoculars to scan the edge of the water and spotted a few birds; Dan used his Nikon D90 to photograph the large spiders living in the observation blind’s windows. We wove through the nature preserve, spending some time watching herons and ospreys at Tubby Cove and spotting a young deer on Deer Inn Trail. The latter trail had was full of mosquitos, but the view of Frying Pan Cove, where the Chester River meets the Chesapeake Bay, is so perfect that it was worth the bites. The deer, too, was a surprise. I insisted that it had to be fake, but Dan–the logical one–maintained that no one would plant a fake deer on a trail in a wildlife refuge. “If it was real it would have moved by–” I was cut off by the deer moving its head and running away. Our last stop was the Butterfly Garden and the trail there. We sat at a picnic table next to the garden where I’d eaten lunch four years prior during a day of community service with my college. I’d volunteered to help with Into the Streets and freshmen move-in and I’d ended up fixing up the trail and spreading mulch with a handful of first-year students. Being back there and seeing how much the garden grew was impressive, and sharing the spectacular view with Dan was even better. He takes stunning nature photographs, too, so even with the few butterflies present that late in the season, he managed to get some great shots. We drove back into town to Java Rocks, the café owned by our innkeepers, and split a roast beef panini. I was impressed with my ability to enjoy the sandwich as it was a bit fancier than the fare I typically choose–it had a horseradish sauce and cole slaw, the latter of which I’m usually completely against.

The early start to our day meant that we had a few hours to kill before our sunset cruise, so we relaxed with our books by the saltwater pool. Half the guests of the bed and breakfast had the same idea as two other couples already had the comfier chairs. The cool nights had made the water quite chilly, but after a long while in the sun, I gave in and slowly made my way down the stairs into the frigid water. I lost my nerve, though, and went back to the chair after about fifteen minutes of trying to will myself under the water. By this point, we both had a decent sunburn on our faces, and the sun continued to bake us. Dan decided that he was ready to take on the water, and the other couples had vacated the pool area; before I knew it, we were in the middle of the pool, splashing and toying with the idea of complete immersion. It was quick, it was refreshing, and I have no idea why I did it. Sure, Memorial Day weekend, I had braved 57 degree ocean to swim, but that was different. When I asked Dan why I was back in the freezing pool with wet hair, he responded, “Because you have a complex.” It might be true. Regardless, I had the pleasure of following up that refreshing dip with a warm bath and a glass of red wine.

Describing the sunset cruise is difficult. I could go chronologically and talk about the trouble finding the dock, how overdressed we felt because we wanted to look nice for each other, how difficult it is to climb into a boat in a dress, our social awkwardness, or something like that, but I think there is only one way to illustrate how amazing the experience was.

We followed the cruise with a delicious dinner at Waterman’s. Instead of ordering way too much food as I am prone to do, I stuck with a reasonable portion. The food was delicious, but after such an active day filled with nothing but the outdoors, we were exhausted. We didn’t stay for the band playing on the patio, nor did we stop for ice cream in town. We went back to the bed and breakfast and got ready for bed. After a few minutes of reading, we were ready to pass out. I didn’t even have the energy to wait until midnight so I could open my birthday presents!