The Countdown

I had a moment of utter despair today.  In the midst of trying to research my final paper, I knew I had one more short story to read for class.  I whipped out that puppy today and realized it is about TWO HUNDRED PAGES LONG.

Screw you, Faulkner.

It wasn't even good!  I labored through it and still am not quite sure what happened.  Which may or may not have something to do with a two-hour nap somewhere in there.  Plus, I still need to read a critical essay on it.  Grrrrrrrr.

To make matters worse, I can't even elicit any sympathy.  G just blinks and says something along the lines of nobody making me go to grad school.  A-peep sends me snarky texts about the days of old when I used to fly through books.

Remember that one time?  When we got to go somewhere?  And do something fun?  With no homework?

One more week of class.  One more week until my final paper is due.  Three more weeks of the K-8 school.  Which essentially means three more weeks until I sleep the summer away.

In the meantime, I will pay you a thousand dollars if you will whip up a quick paper about key differences in the notion of childhood between Victorian and Modernist authors.

Anyone?

Anyone?