I think I willed my fiction writing professor into illness this morning. While I love the class, I was just having one of those nights and mornings wwhere I did not want to go to class. I didn't set my alarm last night, but that plan failed. Apparently 6 hours sleep was enough for me. I woke up at 7:30, chipper and ready to roll.
Damnit. So taht plan failed. I decided i would just procrastinate and work on other homework then feign ignorance, claiming i was so entangled in my reading of Melville's "Bartleby" (
, if it did not mean eliminating Moby, I would gladly consider going back in time to brain Melville with a nail bat, saving myself from this reading) that i forgot to stop at 8:30.
After a long, hot shower and a bowl of Raisin Bran, the phone rang. Class was cancelled because my prof. was sick.
Damnit. So taht plan failed. I decided i would just procrastinate and work on other homework then feign ignorance, claiming i was so entangled in my reading of Melville's "Bartleby" (
, if it did not mean eliminating Moby, I would gladly consider going back in time to brain Melville with a nail bat, saving myself from this reading) that i forgot to stop at 8:30.
After a long, hot shower and a bowl of Raisin Bran, the phone rang. Class was cancelled because my prof. was sick.
