Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days....
of tortuous hell. Aka, the last weeks of the semester.
I'd like to say that, due to the new baby, I have put everything off until the last minute, that the work has piled up in an unusual way, that this just isn't like me to be so overwhelmed. The truth is:
The baby certainly doesn't help; but, no matter what the circumstances, I find myself in a similar predicament at the end of every semester. The work is just piled up and I am typing like a woman with a gun to her head, intermittently crying, sweating, hysterically laughing, absently staring, and then (of course) more typing, typing, typing.
I always have good intensions at the beginning of the semester. "I'll make a plan", "I'll read ahead every weekend", "I'll never procrastinate this semester".
Yeah
Yeah
yeah
I've told myself this so many times that now that I actually have a solid, legitimate instance of chaos induced procrastination, I can't help but be sick of my own stress-filled sentiment.
I am the girl who cried stress.
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