This year two close friends gave me my Christmas present early: a Snuggie they had found on clearance at a shop in Georgetown.
I quickly realized that the “blanket with sleeves” really is the gift that keeps on giving. I became an immediate Snuggie convert. I sat at my desk wearing the Snuggie, I read on my bed wearing the Snuggie, I even ate my morning bowl of cereal clad in the Snuggie. And as we approached finals last semester, my Snuggie became my academic security blanket. I felt smartest and most confident when swaddled in its fleecy depths. “Why yes, I can crank out this paper the night before because I am warm and cozy! Eight pages is no match for these eight feet of polyblend ingenuity!”
I started to correlate my academic success to Snuggie-wearing. I knew that in the mania of finals, I would only survive with my Snuggie in hand. I wanted desperately to carry it with me everywhere – Ã la Linus – but, alas, I also knew this to be socially unacceptable. And so, with a bitter heart, I reluctantly resigned to leaving the Snuggie on my bed as I trekked to Lauinger Library in the cold.
But as finals week arrived and my time spent in Lauinger increased, I grew weary and fainthearted without my Snuggie and the reassurance it provided me. At first, my fear of being ostracized kept my separation anxiety at bay. For mine is not just any Snuggie. No, my Snuggie has a Harry Potter motif. The crest of Hogwarts is blazoned across it, with all four houses and their respective mascots represented. There is nothing subtle about it, and for that reason I love it all the more.
Finally – on one particularly daunting evening in terms of workload – I caved and decided that I really could not bear to go to the library again without taking along some kind of support. And so I shoved the Snuggie into my backpack, headed to a remote nook of the fourth floor and settled myself into a chair near a window.
I hesitated and pretended to skim my textbook for about 15 minutes before I decided it was safe to pull out the Snuggie. I desperately hoped that the people around me wouldn’t notice as they pored over their laptops and books. I tried to be stealthy, but in yanking it out of my bag, I knocked all of my textbooks to the floor and my Snuggie was exposed in all of its Potter glory. I held my breath and waited for the gasps of disgust. What came next, however, was such a welcome surprise.
The girl across from me whispered, a little too loudly. “Is that a Snuggie?” I nodded sheepishly. “That’s such a great idea! I’m always a little chilly in Lau. I think I might bring mine tomorrow.” I beamed. Soon others chimed in around me. The reception was astounding.
“Perfect for when I end up napping between studying.”
“Is that Harry Potter? Excellent.”
“Will you hold it up so I can get a better look?”
I cheerfully obliged, so grateful that others were receptive to my lack of shame. I loved discovering the unforeseen benefit of sporting the absurd blanket: the camaraderie it fostered in an otherwise bleak setting. It was that sense of empathy and understanding that gave me enough courage to bring the blanket back for a repeat appearance the following evening.
I like to think that I was exceptionally productive those nights in Lau. Perhaps I was channeling my inner Hermione. As we approach a particularly anxious time of the semester – the ambiguously termed, seemingly endless “midterm” season – and as stress levels in Lau grow palpable, there is nothing quite like a Snuggie to serve as a welcome shield from exam-induced peril. I know this much is true. And to any doubters, I’d be happy to lend you my Snuggie; I can guarantee it will add a little magic to your evenings of studying.
argaret Delaney is a sophomore in the College. She can be reached at mdelaneythehoya.com. I Know This Much Is True appears every other Tuesday.
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