But make sure the shoes match the girl.

I spent the night before the first day of classes trying on shoes.

I guess every first day of school is the same...try on outfits...break in the backpack...set the tone for the year.

So I tried on a lot of shoes.

When I woke up and put on the sneakers I'd picked out, custom orthotic inserts nudging my feet into position, I felt old.

Then I realized I was nervous.

I'm sure everyone was a little bit nervous.

• freshmen worried about finding their classes and questioning whether ten minutes *really* was enough time to get all the way across campus, even though the RA was really confident it would be fine
• professors jittering as they look over introductory lecture notes, preparing to explain that while the syllabus looks overwhelming, the class is awesome - don't drop it! - and wondering if anyone actually paid attention behind the sea of laptops
• staff, used to the light foot traffic of the summer, anticipating a whole new ball game
• and, of course, me, returning to a campus I knew ten years ago, spending this same morning trying to memorize maps (or at least fold them small enough to fit in my pocket) hand-drawing my class schedule, all from the comfort of a dorm room aglow with the new, exciting Dell desktop's fancy flat screen and daydreaming about brilliant professors and potentially cute TAs.

So while I pondered my shoe choice (Is it worth making this fashion error? Can I just suffer the heel pain and buy some Advil?), I realized I still had the same thoughts and fears.

• How long does it take to get from the commuter parking lot to campus?
• Do busses run regularly?
• Do I even know what busses to take?

Turns out it's not all that different this time.

And I was still daydreaming of brilliant professors and cute TAs.

I decided against the sneakers. I mean, it couldn't be that bad, right? It's only been about seven years since I left studies completely. I'm still up on pop culture. (I bought a Ke$ha song the other day!) My sister-in-law just gave me SillyBandz from Disney World! (Should I wear them???) I'm *sure* I'll go to class a little hungover sometimes.

In the end, I wore flip-flops.

(They had really good arch support.)

Well, at least someone's watching his laptop.

I don't remember being so tired.

I do, however, remember the naps. Especially the ones that lasted for hours... and especially when they lasted so long you woke to a setting sun and it was time to meet friends at the dining hall. And, miraculously, it was all okay.

Those naps were the best sleep I've ever had in my life. But not because I needed them. Lord knows there was plenty of time to sleep. But it was the best sleep because it was *my* sleep. ("No one tells this college freshman when she can sleep!") And the temperature in my dorm room was always perfect. Even if I am remembering the details through the lens of nostalgia, I remember those naps with fondness and I know I will never have that kind of sleep again.

But everywhere around me, people are tired.

Yeah, I get it...these kids have the freedom to sleep whenever they want. Or not to sleep when the clock implies they should be. It's their life.

But sleeping everywhere already? It's the third day of classes!

I have seen three - THREE! - narcoleptic undergraduate men in the past three days. Completely unable to control the urge to hit snooze - no matter the rules of etiquette.

• The first was in the library yesterday. This was straight up narcolepsy, folks. I thought about calling a doctor. After scarfing down his dinner, the kid could barely read a sentence before falling asleep right where he was sitting. Head back, mouth open, probably drooling if I had been close enough to see. And when he startled awake, he tried to read a bit more before remembering he hadn't finished his burrito. And then I'm pretty sure he fell asleep again when he started reading. His head was in his hands, though. I can't verify my suspicion. I commend his effort to get an early start. Maybe he has the flu.

• This morning, from my front row perch in Intro to Psych, I saw a kid sleeping. It seemed like he was trying his best to be polite and stay awake. But he was in the front row! Obviously the professor noticed! I can only imagine he stayed up all night illegally downloading music -- wait -- Napster doesn't exist anymore. Maybe MTV streams episodes of the Jersey Shore. It's addictive. SBecause, on the third day of classes, there aren't even parties to keep you up all night. That can't possibly have changed.

• And last, certainly not least, though the least imaginative example of sleep, was in the library cafe. I was there to get 1 pm cappucino before testing the carrels in the library stacks for a study spot. (It seemed like the thing you do when studying in the stacks. Homework and coffee.) I sat down for a few minutes in the cafe. Naturally, the kid next to me was sleeping. He had mirror framed Aviator sunglasses on. But it was clear he was snoozing. Those coffee shop armchairs are quite a lure...at 1 pm on the third day of classes. I kept an eye on his laptop.

Bet seriously, guys. Work it out!!

I don't remember being so tired. There was all the time in the world to sleep. And to me the biggest perk of a dorm room was setting my own bedtime.

But today...ten years later...three days into classes...I'm tired.

My feet hurt from walking. (The sensible shoes I picked out made me feel too much like a mom.)

My elbow and wrist hurt from taking notes in lecture. (I will not join the sea of laptops. I don't mind my ancient handwritten notes ritual red-flagging my age -- I'm really good at shorthand.)

My head hurts from financial aid woes. (To be resolved tomorrow, so say the Gods of Bureaucracy.)

And all the kids in my classes have a whole life ahead of them. (I had a life ahead of me too ten years ago. I just didn't expect it to happen the way it did.)

So tonight, lying in bed, ready to fall asleep, at a time when the rest of the zip code is also preparing to slumber,

...yeah, I'm fucking tired.