If Julie Andrews were a college student preparing for spring break and she was asked to sing about her favorite things, what would they include?

Parties on beaches and Budweiser in buckets. At least, that’s what they would be if she lived in a stereotypical spring break filmed for MTV.

I’m here to fight the stereotype that college students are harbingers of poor decision-making in Panama City, Daytona Beach and Cancun.

I am going to reclaim spring break for the homebodies.

On Friday afternoon, some of my peers — who I will call “spring breakers” — will be packing up a car, cramming all their worldly possessions and friends into a single vehicle to drive nine hours. I’ll be partially filling up my trunk to drive an hour to get home.

When the stereotypical spring breakers arrive to their beach house three hours later than expected and are greeted by the ghosts of spring breakers past — the smells, stains and messiness of past renters of the house — I’ll be greeted at the door by my dog and best friend of 11 years, Sadie. She loves me unconditionally, unlike the landlord who will be charging the “wild” spring breakers fines upon fines for damaging his house.

One thing spring breakers and I can agree on is somehow there is always someone on the trip that no one wanted to be there. In most cases this is a friend of a friend that somehow weaseled their way into coming. Known as a frenemy, you love them one hour and hate them the next. Mine so happens to be my cat.

While I will need months to rebuild the bridges that were burned between my cat Cashmere and me last summer, I only have one short week to figure out why she torments and awakens me at seven in the morning, every morning.

My complicated feelings aside, spring break is a great time to get ahead on the overwhelming number of papers I have due in the weeks after it.

At least, that’s the lie I tell myself every day. In reality, I am not going to get any more work done than the average spring breaker. So at least I’m saving money by being home?

If so, it is only slightly. I will more than likely spend just as much money compulsively buying food to deal with the stress of my parents making me realize I’m not going anywhere in life because I have only applied for two internships this summer.

Spring breakers can run away from their troubles. I’m facing them head-on by sleeping under my parents’ roof.

In fact, I won’t even be able to escape them by hanging out with my friends at home because our spring break is so late this year. My only company will be the sweet, soothing Barefoot Contessa from 3-4 p.m. on the Food Network until I’m forced to turn the channel as Mrs. Diabetes herself — Paula Deen — appears on the TV.

Maybe 20-year-old Julie Andrews named her favorite things correctly after all.

Huh.

Maybe I should have gone to the beach.