This week, the harsh and unforgiving winter has settled upon Cornell’s campus. Every morning, students venture out and endure these frigid winds with only the distant, waning memory of warmer days (last week) to comfort them. There is only one sanctuary for these brave souls: the primal familiarity of the warmth of a running sink.
“It is like a tender hug from my mother,” shared Riley Williams ‘27, washing her hands. “No, no, it is like crawling back up inside of my mother’s soft, balmy womb, hands-first.”
Those familiar with the allure of the warm sink will also be well-acquainted with the excruciating moment when the recommended 20 seconds of handwashing have passed and one is forced to relinquish the pure euphoria of the sink to the next in line. This moment came all too soon for Williams.
“Please… please don’t make me go back out there,” Williams said, pleading with Casey Connors ‘25, the incumbent hand-washer.
“Girl, what the fuck? I have to wash my fucking hands. I’m going to be late for Econ,” replied Connors.
Williams was eventually torn away from the sink kicking, screaming and crying, a scene reminiscent of the first time she was torn away from the comfort of her mother’s womb.
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