There has been a fair chunk of work to get through in the past couple weeks. Although things have slowed down a bit, the work has not stopped, it has just gotten dragged out. (I’m finding it hard to write without imagining someone is come along to check my grammar and coherence – damn you, mysterious marker person!) I had to laugh when my good friend Maktaaq called on Saturday night, as I was studying the diabolical Gucker on Grammar, and suggested that I ought to try to write something for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). All I need is another 50,000 words in my life. But I take the suggestion in the spirit in which it was given – a good friend and fellow writer encouraging me to do something I don’t believe I can do, but most likely could if I wanted to.
I’d like to get some things done early so I can get on to others, but I feel so tired and burnt out that all I really want to do is sit in front of America’s Next Top Model knitting that sweater I’ve been working on since July so it’s ready as a Christmas present. Two sleeves to go. When I do sit down to write and study, my stomach is tied in knots and my head hurts and I just want to lie in the tub for an hour with gossip magazines before getting into bed. Obviously, this is not the state to succumb to with only a few weeks left to go and about 8 assignments of varying scope to complete.

Haven’t counted. Don’t want to. At least there is the comfort of knowing that 30-odd people are going through the same thing, maybe with their own quirky variations.
At the very least, living in temporary quarters with the parents as I await the completion of our new apartment gives me two time-saving advantages:

  1. I haven’t needed to cook. Although a dinner that doesn’t feature meat, potatoes and tea, nor my uncle’s thoughts on the current state of crime and punishment, would be nice.
  2. My DVDs are all packed up. Not having the Pride and Prejudice handy for when I feel sloth-like has saved about 5 hours at a clip. Because you know I would have to watch the whole damn thing.

Time management by fluke, everything’s out of control. Efficiency is no friend of creativity. But pain seems to be a factor. Colin Firth and multiple glasses of wine look like a good idea, in theory.

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