Ugh. There is far too much stress in my life at the moment. Ptichka’s been locked out (her comments on her first day on the picket line: “It’s harder than it looks” and “There were a lot of people there”), it looks as though I’m going to miss a deadline, and last night, I had my first back-to-school anxiety dream. Poop. I’m planning the course and the schedule is getting ugly because of holidays and reading weeks and tests. Oh well, at least my various stresses spurred me to excede my writing quota for the day. Who knew that the dissertation could be a good escape from life? It also produced a funny typo. Byron is now a “goof” poet. Ah, Northrop, you always say the right thing, don’t you?


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