Over Christmas break, I was sitting at my kitchen table, wondering about the state of the world and my place in it. Well, mostly, I was just doing the almost-but-not-yet graduated dance, wondering what I was going to do with my life. A particularly profound thought struck me that, as of May 23rd, I will no longer be under the control and guidance — and financial care — of the cash cow. I'm not referring to my parents — who I would never refer to as the cash cow, but something more refined, like the cash llama or the cash flying unicorn — but the illustrious institution that is Notre Dame.