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The problem continues

Look, people, just because I can’t get anything academic accomplished lately doesn’t mean, as one ex girlfriend and her twin sister have suggested, that I’m clinically depressed. I’ll give you a call when I start lining straight razors up on the sink ledge and staring at them with hungry eyes. If anything, the problem is that I have too much fun most of the time to have any fun at all when it comes time to buckle down school-wise.

Today, for example, I had mixed results with my efforts to study. First I went to the 7-11 down the street for my daily cup of coffee. The trip was a disaster. After pouring my usual 12 oz. cup of “Dark Mountain Roast”, I applied pressure to the wrong area of the lid when securing it to the top of the cup. I also wasn’t holding onto the base of the container. Of course the plastic cup went sailing across the counter-top, drenching everything, including me, with cheap, evil-smelling coffee. The clerk was very nice about the whole fiasco – spend a couple years getting held at gunpoint on a monthly basis and I bet little mishaps like mine start to seem pretty paltry in comparison – but I still felt like an ass, and I was still soaked in coffee. This necessitated a load of laundry.

The problem with me doing laundry is that it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something, even though the machines are doing all the work and I’m getting no closer to completing my reading assignment. This was definitely the case today as I tried to write a column about voter initiatives. To be fair, I was simultaneously struggling through the 47 pages of said initiatives in the King County voter’s pamphlet, which is no joyous task but was necessary research. Then Nathan and Ashley got home, and they’re always an effective distraction. Later, John and Ben came over and we made enough enchiladas to land us all in jail for Possession of Excessively Spicy Food With Intent to Distribute (RCW-001754#MEX). I only just now finished writing my beast of a column and mailed it off to my editor, eight hours past deadline. I know that she never reads them until Monday afternoon anyway, but I still fell like I’ve dropped the ball. Like I’ve fallen asleep at the switch / wheel. Choose your cliche, I promise I’ll make it fit.

The upshot of all of this is that I have a short story due tomorrow that I haven’t even considered writing yet, as well as an entire Shakespeare play to read by Tuesday. It’s a good thing I sleep in on the weekends, because something tells me that I won’t be getting any this week.

Posted in Musings.

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