So I went to work today to find that my schedule has went from 8 hours to 21.5 hours next week. YES I work EVERY DAY next week. Well not everyday because Wednesday I am technically "on call." How fucking sweet is that?
Anyway, not so sweet because that is also the week that my large paper is due. That prior to about 6:30PM today I have barely even touched since Tuesday. Anyway so I told myself..."Self, you seriously just need to sit down and just make this last section happen. You just have to. Just long hand it and then Saturday you can type and edit it. And then on Tuesday morning you can fix it all and make it too perfect to be real." Then I felt utterly hopeless for about 10 minutes. I stopped feeling hopeless. Poured a large vodka and coke. Took a drink. Looked down at my large mess of papers and book on my living room floor. Cried internally. And then fell to my knees and just started writing. YES.
And you know what?
It is long handed out. The skeletal long handed semblance of a ten page beast of a paper is all piled up next to me on my futon right now. I want to dance all over the house right now. And sing songs. But I won't. I won't because I still have the weekend to fight the procrastination demons hiding in my head right now.
This is great because I was quite sure I wasn't even going to make it this far.
Okay.
Okay!
I was half sure I was going to have to like drown a virgin, sacrifice a goat, and cut my wrist to let blood into a goblet over a shoddy alter of library books for this paper to get written. But it looks like I could easily finish this all by Sunday with just a little self discipline. No promises, but I will try to keep the paper cutting blood letting to a minimum.
I am so nervous for next week because it will be the week I will be alone in the day care for several hours with many screaming toddlers. I am so scared for my life.
Death by 11 month-olds.
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