I think everyone on campus is suffering from lack of sleep.
Gah! I’ve not had any caffeine yet! My world is ending… ok, so there are no crack in the earth to back me up, but humour me anyway. This am when I dragged my groggy butt up to campus for my first class, this woman sat next to me who smelled like she’d marinated for a week in her perfume. Perfume makes my head hurt on the best of days. This made my fucking eyes water it was so strong. So here I am trying not to make faces because I’m sure the lady’s very nice, and just doesn’t want to smell like BO, but COME ON people. Think about others for a change: if other people can smell you coming, and then smell you for twenty minutes after the fact, then maybe its time to switch to a nice light scent. Please?
Argh, no time. Must dash. Workshop now. Need. More. Sleep.
Today is going to be a long day.
I have class from 9:30 to 10:30 and then I have to go to the library to get books and such for my research outline that’s due in a week, and lord knows if I will be able to find anything decent in the time I have. (It’s for American Lit class. I’m doing my paper either on Harriet Beecher Stowe or Nathaniel Hawthorne, because I’ve read both of the novels by them, and I’ve not got anywhere near Melville’s Moby Dick. At least not yet.)
Tuesday sees the due date of my short essay on a book. For that I’ve chosen that Atwood book I mentioned before Negotiating With the Dead. It’s a page-turner, at least for me. So that essay should be relatively easy. (Here I go, I always get so worried about writing these things, and they do seem to turn out ok in the end despite my worrying.)
At 1 I have to be at work. Looks like our erstwhile part-timer has been unable to appear, yet again, so it will just be K and I. I have to stay until 9:30. I hope it’s not a dead day. Time goes so slowly when it’s dead. (and times like that that I get all uptight, because there are better things I could be doing.) At least tomorrow I only have a 9-12.
I should do laundry tomorrow.
I have no socks.
Miss Kitten’s new game is waking me up by batting either my face or my shoulder with her paw. Sans claws thankfully. Accompanying this is a constant monologue of chirrups and purr sounds. If it wasn’t so cute I might find her annoying. It’s a much better alarm system than J’s awful BRAAAP BRAAAP BRAAAP sound coming from his clock radio.