So I’m sitting in the university library. By some sheer miracle of physics I delivered my children half-dressed and unkempt to before-school-care, and arrived at my lecture with five minutes to spare. Dumping my bag I decided that coffee was the only thing that would bring meaning to my life, so I hopped out and grabbed a very long and very black coffee and some pear and raspberry bread to massage my thoughts into action. Arriving a respectable ten minutes late for my lecture. Staring at the ground as I cross in front of the lecture. If I don’t make eye contact she won’t notice the coffee and paper bag in my hand.
Aced the lecture, now functional I participated in my student life. Lecture’s finished, hopped (I’m doing an inordinate amount of hopping this morning) over to the always over crowded library where three-quarters of the campus population tap away at Apple laptops or anxiously prepare crib notes for their presentation that you know some member of the group hasn’t been involved in, but has turned up today, smiling ready to accept the accolades. Bastard.
Finished last week’s blog post (as now most university communications work requires an online blow-by-blow) and now I’m trying to avoid the inevitable phone call that I have to make to finish an article I think I’m writing (5 days till due date). I HATE calling people that I don’t know. It makes my stomach feel like it’s lined with a dank smelling river sand and a slow crawling bottom feeder is making it’s way up my spine. I’m going to be an awesome journalist. Seriously.