As much as I was looking forward to the beginning of the holiday season, I knew that I would be in for a bit of a rough time. The vast majority of my friends were returning to their families, excited to have some well-needed rest. I would be lucky enough to get some rest myself, but I would be sleeping in the same room I had been for nearly three months now. I would be spending my first Thanksgiving as an adult on campus.

At first, I was not too happy about this. I felt envy towards so many of my friends who were in circumstances that allowed them to return home at a moment's notice. But I had gone through this before when we had our first break back in early October. I knew that this mentality was toxic. I had to shirk it off. And so I did. I formed a "Thanksgiving codependency" pact with a friend of mine, ensuring that I had someone to spend time and money with to ensure we would both survive. Sure, it was certainly a bonding experience (misery loves company, after all), but that doesn't mean that I had the best experience possible. I didn't.

This was not her fault, obviously. I just have the worst luck sometimes.

I first figured this out when my ID card decided it was time to die on me. It didn't just die, though, it snapped in half. Not only was I now unable to get into my own room, I couldn't pick up packages that came in or do an ungodly amount of laundry. I was legit heartbroken as this was the worst possible moment for this to occur. Since campus is practically closed over the break, this implies that I would be unable to get a new ID or even a temporary one until the break was over. My ID broke on Thursday. So, as you can probably deduce, my life was certainly interesting.

The first thing I had to do that my ID proved to greatly interfere with, as I alluded to earlier, is my laundry. Not only did I have two loads of clothes to do, I also had to wash practically all my bedding as an accident with some of my groceries proved that the phrase "don't cry over spilled milk" is very relevant when you're already quite emotionally fragile.

My thanksgiving codependent volunteered her ID to let me do laundry, which emotionally overwhelmed me once again. We loaded it with money from my account and I entered the laundry room. I swiped for three washers, put clothes in two, and bedding in the third. We added detergent and returned to my room—which I taped open—until the laundry was done. I took her card and returned to the laundry room. Since there was practically no one on campus, I had access to all the machines I needed. Since the driers are so much bigger than the washing machines, I only needed two. I loaded three-fourths of my clothes into one, a quarter into the other, then went to unload the third washer.

The words "UNBALANCED LOAD" were showing on the display. My friend had advised me to overfill the washer since I had heavy, bulky items, which I did not do to the necessary extent. When I pulled the comforter out, it was not bad, just a little too damp. The gray fleece blanket, however, was not so lucky. I tried to lift it out, but approximately 50 pounds of water caught me off guard. I had to improvise. It was probably a bad idea to just put all of that water into the drier, so I did all I could do: wring it out myself.

It took fifteen minutes. By the time I finally managed to get most of it out, my hands were exhausted and my feet were soaked. I couldn't even get it all—the blanket was still far too water-logged to dry quickly—so I had to just deal with it. I threw it in, turned on the drier, and came back an hour later. To keep a long story short, I had to buy two more loads of laundry and extend the time on the drier with the blanket in it by another hour. In total, I spent 4.5 hours and $11 on laundry.

At this point, I just wanted to give up. I was aggravated and extremely bitter. Even though my codependent and I were making some delicious food that was making my days much better, I could not help but feel personally attacked by the universe.

In that moment, I knew that certain feeling was creeping up on me again. I went into damage control mode, forcing myself focus on the positive things that happened over the break that could balance out the universe.

Of course, I have figured things out now. I know that my bad luck is not enough to ruin some of the most entertaining days of my college experience. I learned that I enjoy cooking for myself and that I could actually eat healthier for once; I got closer with a friend who had been with me every step of the way; I was lucky enough to play Cards Against Humanity—the most politically incorrect game in the damn universe—with the president of my college; I reached enlightenment upon eating Patti LaBelle's sweet potato pie for the first time. Trust me, it's divine. I mean, just look at it:

Who would have known a pie would be the thing that saved my Thanksgiving.