
We’ve all eaten market chili at 11:59 on a Monday night crying in our beds rewatching the singing episode of Grey’s Anatomy, rethinking our decision to take five classes while still have a thriving social life. We’ve all slipped in the basement of Old K due to a sad puddle of Keystone, and wished we just stayed in bed eating market chili. We’ve all tried to make a wrap in Peirce because we’re above the bowl issue, but instead pissed off the entire panini press line because the tortilla broke and quinoa is spilling everywhere.