If you had an electron microscope you couldn’t locate my interest in the end of this semester.

So, as of 9:55 on Friday, May 13th:

I have turned in one (1) paper.

(The one I care about and care about impressing the professor and cried a little over because it was forty-seven pages and the footnotes were pretty and you know what I really like footnotes, yes, I know it’s weird.)

(But also the one for which I’m not too terribly concerned about the grade.)

I still have to finish, polish, format, and turn in one (1) paper.

(The one that I really hate and don’t like writing and doesn’t really have anything to do what I actually wanted to talk about or what is in the syllabus for that matter through no fault of my own I was told to change every little single thing and seriously, Andrew Greeley bugs the LIVING HELL OUT OF ME GAHHH and I have never attended Mass with the professor and have no warm fuzzy feelings about you, sir, so I DON’T CARE.)

(Also the one that I’m freaking out about the grade because I HAVE NO WARM FUZZY FEELINGS ABOUT YOU, SIR.)

I have finished teaching for the semester.

(Which I actually enjoy.)

I still have to administer, grade, and input about one hundred (100) essay exams.

(Which is more work than it seems because we graded EVERYTHING ALL SEMESTER YOU TOOK A BREATH? FIVE POINTS FOR YOU.)

I have bought a ton of books on Amazon.

I have yet to read anything non-historiography-related without feeling guilty.

There you have it. About half finished. At least if we combine the bad stuff in one big thing.

A smart person would finish that paper (because the rest is just busy work and won’t really hang over my head.)

A dumb person would watch Modern Family on abc.com (again- because it was SO FUNNY), download Glee songs, and kill time on the internet whining about how much work she has to do.

I think we all know where this is going, don’t we?


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