The background information that’s relevant to this post is that last month I got into Temple University (no relation to Jews) for an M.A. in Economics. If all goes well, I’ll be starting it in late August.
So, this weekend, Mr. B and I spent a bunch of of time at the UPenn Hospital visiting one of our family members recovering from surgery. Everything is ok (knock on wood), but there’s just something about hospitals that makes a hypochondriac think.
Me: I love this hospital. It’s so much better than any other hospital I’ve ever been to.
Mr. B: That’s because it’s UPenn.
Me: I know. I’ve been dreaming of going to UPenn (Wharton, specifically) ever since I was a little girl, but I didn’t go there because I was too lazy to fill out the 10-page college application and plus my parents told me I’d have to pay for it myself. Plus I’m not smart enough. But now I’ve decided my life goal is to somehow be associated with UPenn. But I’m going to Temple. That’s bad.
Mr. B: That’s the perfect place for you to plot as you work on your degree.
Me: I’ll plot my way into UPenn while I’m working on my master’s. I like it. But wait.
*at this point, we’re walking by the Ob/Gyn wing in the hospital*
Mr. B: What?
Me: What if I can somehow have a baby at UPenn? And the baby can be an anchor baby?
Mr. B: You think if you have a baby at the UPenn hospital, they’re going to let you in as a student?
Me: It works for staying in America, right?
Mr. B: You are so Machiavellian it scares me.
Me: It’s one of the qualities that will endear me to the committee, I think.