Guess how far I am in a 5-page paper that's due in two and a half hours?
ONE PAGE.
I may have said I was excited to be back in school, even summer school (and it's true!), but that didn't mean I'd stop procrastinating. Sometimes I disgust myself.
Also, I had to cross a stupid picket line to sit here and procrastinate over coffee and bran muffin and Henry James. Whose brilliant idea was it to strike at 6:15am? And why do some of the protestors have to cross the picket lines themselves in order to pee in the same establishment they yelled at me for entering? I could go on for years about how it's just silly to hold labor protests on Bastille Day (also Becca's birthday!), the French independence day, because that seems like an organized effort. Everyone knows the French don't work, and while of course they would also not work on Bastille Day, it is for entirely different reasons than custodial workers here wanting a living wage. Perhaps the symbolism is lost on me.
And now there are news helicopters circling campus and DISTRACTING ME. Not that everything hasn't been distracting me this entire weekend, like trying to sleep past 8am, moving in, or my neighbor's kitchen (which I can hear more clearly from my bedroom than I can my own kitchen).
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2 comments:
But it is oh-so-French to have a strike! Every time the metro is on strike, London workers take notice and think if the French are having a strike, well, we're just as good. We need one too!
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