Fermented squash. I ferment a lot of produce I get from my garden, even stuff I could eat fresh. But squash is first tier.

In my late forties and I couldn’t tell you what year I graduated. I know I fucked up so bad freshman year I had to switch from an Ivy League to an okay school with zero credit to my name, and lost a whole year, I know I got to 90% done with three different minors I ended up hating and dropping. I know I’m successful and happy in my career.
It doesn’t matter a bit.
Also, you’re struggling BUT doing it. That’s way more impressive than cruising through college.

French here: it works. Miam.

Honestly, when I remember it, I can hear the fabric of reality tearing.

I was 16, on a road-trip in the US with my dad and my sister. We’re French. First time in the US. Get to NYC after a month. That was before Internet existed: we had booked a room in the Central Park YMCA by mail. Reception goes: “Yes, you’re in the book. LastName, 2 people, today through next Saturday.”
“Err, no, sorry, the dates are right but there are 3 of us.”
“Oh, we must have written it down wrong, no problem, we’ll give you a bigger room.” We get to our room. 5 minutes later there’s a knock on the door. My sister opens it. My dad’s jaw clatters on the lino floor. It was his estranged dad and very much estranged step-mother. He hadn’t been in touch for 20 years; I had met them once when I was 3; my sister, never. They had booked a room under the same LastName (duh), for the same 6 nights, in the same hostel, for their first visit to the US.
We did spend some time with them in NYC, but it didn’t lead to any happily-ever-after, family-healing breakthrough, because they were jerks or, to be honest, monsters.

Same.

A few months ago our neighbor’s cat decided he likes us a bit better. He switches homes every 5 days or so, but visits several times a day when he’s at her place. For some reason he doesn’t trigger my partner’s allergy. He’s only moderately cuddly, but very smart and considerate. He naps on my bed but spends every night on Kid’s pillow and she’s over the moon. He waits for her on the porch after school.

Neighbor will be moving and she’s considering leaving him with us. We can only hope.

Because you’re a witch?

Which country?.

Thank you.

Where I’m from, the hyperbole would go “You’ll get punched.”

Fwiw, it’s répertoire.

I mean, most languages are not written.