Yep, I’ve only got five more days until classes are finished for the semester, and I’ll officially be footloose and fancy-free for an entire month!
Not to rub it in or anything.
Okay, maybe to rub it in a little bit.
But, seriously, guys. ONE MONTH.
I will finally have time to do all those things I told myself I was totally going to do once I returned to the States. But I haven’t had any time to do.
Like work out.
And drink margaritas.
Okay, maybe, mostly drink margaritas.Exciting as this fact is, there’s one teensy weensy little thing that I’m not so excited about.
I have about five kabillion papers to grade before the end of the semester. And, I know you all think I’m exaggerating. Because, really, when am I not exaggerating.
But I’m for serious this time.
Right before Thanksgiving I piled all the papers I had to grade on top of each other. And then I measured it. Because I thought seeing all the work I needed to do in one big stack the size of a small mountain would actually, you know, motivate me to do work.As usual, I thought wrong.
Instead, it motivated me to do a whole bunch of other things I never thought I’d be motivated to do.
Like let my five-year-old niece give me a pedicure. In case you’re wondering, things did not turn out well. Let’s just say, you probably shouldn’t give nail polish to someone who hasn’t really gotten the hang of coloring within the lines yet.
And I agreed to watch the latest Twilight movie with my sister. Even though I haven’t watched any of the other Twilight movies and I only read the first book. Which means I’m woefully behind on my teenager-vampire-werewolf lore. Which meant I spent the entire time asking my sister questions like, “Wait, now, so when a vampire and human mate they give birth to creepy CGI babies?” and “So, wasn’t the werewolf guy kind of into Bella and now he’s into her creepy CGI daughter? Umm. EWWW.”
And, then, just at the moment that I was going to sit down and start grading papers like a total boss, I got distracted by pie.
As you do.This week I’ve been attempting to make up for lost time and work my way through the mountain o’ papers, so I can actually hand stuff back to my students before classes finish.
And, you know, before they all forget what a thesis statement is. (Ha, ha, who am I kidding? They’ve already totally forgotten what a thesis statement is. I know this because every time I say stuff like, “Make sure your essay has a clear thesis statement,” they look at me with these expressions on their faces that say, “A thesis-what-now?)
And because I’ve spent almost every waking minute of my week grading papers, this means I’ve also spent almost every waking minute of my week in pants.
Which, I think we can all agree, is kind of a crappy way to spend the week.
You see, unfortunately, I’m not the type of person who’s capable of getting any kind of work done while sitting at home in my bathrobe.I try. I really do. I’m all like, “I’m totally getting some work done.” Which works. For five seconds. And then I get distracted by something.
Like the Internet and any reality TV show ever.
Even when I turn my computer and television off, I still end up getting distracted. I should probably mention that I live in a barn. And I don’t really own a lot of stuff. At least not a lot of stuff most people would consider distracting.
That just goes to show you how inventive I am when it comes to getting distracted.
I can be distracted by anything.
I’m like the MacGyver of being distracted.
Or a bird.
First, I’ll start flipping through old family albums. Which are filled with gems like this one:
And this one:
And then I’ll decide it’s high time I organize my CD collection. From eight years ago. Back when I was really into Euro-trash dance music for some reason. Because you just never know when you might need your Best of Trance Volume Three. And god forbid you can’t find it.
(And, yes, I’m pretty sure I owned Volume One and Two. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT.)
And then there’s the little issue of my cat. Who seems to think the only reason I exist on this planet is for the sole purpose of petting and feeding her. So if I’m not doing either one of those things, she’s been known to stage a protest. And, should, I be attempting to grade papers, she’ll just stage a protest on top of the papers.So if I really want to get any work done, I have to put on my pants and banish myself to a coffee shop or café somewhere.
Which is annoying because, well, PANTS, you guys.
And because it usually means I end up being surrounded by people. People who are having loud conversations. The kind of conversations that I always manage to overhear even when I have my iPod earbuds jammed into my ears. The kind of conversations that I will never, ever be able to unhear. No matter how hard I try.
(To the lady who was sitting next to me at the Panera the other day: Congratulations on your pregnancy! But, umm, if you could please refrain from talking about your lady parts while I’m eating lunch, that would be awesome.)
(And to the girl at Corner Bakery who couldn’t figure out why her boyfriend doesn’t want to spend time with her and kept on asking her friend, “Do you think I’m being an annoying girlfriend?”: Yes, yes, you are.)Which reminds me, I should probably put on my pants and get to work. I still have a stack of papers the size of Mount Fuji that I need to tackle before tomorrow.
And I’m pretty sure there’s a peppermint mocha and an indecent conversation at Starbucks right now which I’m totally missing out on.Where do you go to get your work done? Or maybe you’re the type of person who can actually get work done at home? TELL ME HOW. Because, seriously, guys, I’ve got another week of grading to go and this pants thing is getting old.