RAMONA QUIMBY BOOKS GAVE ME BAD COPING SKILLS!
Every book was a build-up of minor frustrations until, at the end, she explodes and yells just how angry she’s gotten and what’s been bothering her. I read them alot when I was in second grade and decided that this must be the way problems are handled. She was such a stressed out kid. I remember one time she got all freaked out and was like, “I’m going to do something really bad! I’m going to squeeze the toothpaste from the middle!”
I’m printing out my psychology of women essay to turn in a few hours from now… and I have to read an entire chapter for that class in a few hours… I have to write a behavioral therapy essay due tomorrow… and then, while darting around Blackboard to find what I might miss from skipping Developmental Psychology today, I discover Homework #2 has been posted for awhile and is due Thursday: observations of children’s toys or children themselves. And statistics homework this weekend.
I haven’t started shouting… yet.
Maybe I’ll start shouting cyberly… now.
I really want to take a shower and sleep. Recently, I’ve had two incidents of leaving food in the oven to heat up and forgetting about it. These resulted in two very charred breadsticks and one very charred cheese sandwich. They looked like mummies. I only have one pair of socks left unless you count colorful poofy furry ones received as a Christmas present and some ultra-warm, two-inch-thick, navy blue hiking socks. There’s a gnat flying around my computer persistently, periodically. It just flew into my nose for a second. Last week, I accidentally walked into the men’s restroom. I wanted to expand on that experience poetically, but I didn’t have time to do so! WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
TWO SPACES AFTER A PERIOD! Who taught me that? SEE, look, after each period, my thumb reflexively hits the space bar tcktck, two times. I’ve been doing it since an unrememberable time. Unrememberable!
Now APA format is telling me “one space after a period” and somehow I was supposed to have never learned the two-space dictum. Dictum, where did that word come from? That was one of those words where you surprise yourself, you wonder how you pulled it out and from where… Dictum, wow. IMPRESSED.
When do I get time to wash my socks? When do I get time to sleep until I feel rested? When was I supposed to have learned the one-space standard??
Okay, I think I can organize this. I have to fold up the homework assignments into little origami boxes of time and space, instead of them being massive cumulonimbus clouds of foreboding.
First, psychology reading. Now.
I can write the behavioral essay later. At least I don’t have class until noon tomorrow. If I go to bed at midnight and wake up at eight, that’s a good night’s sleep, plus I’ll still have three hours to translate my outline and ideas into some kind of cohesive writing.
Wednesday afternoon and evening: devoted to Developmental.
Statistics over Thursday and Friday.
Weekend–FREE. I’m going to look ahead and start planning already, otherwise I get no meandering time, and I really need meandering time.
labile 