I’m serious. I can’t look at this freaking prospectus any more. I’ve already been working on it looking at it for almost 8 hours today. I have completed many of the necessary edits. But I still have two (small) sections (let’s just call them “paragraphs”) that need to be rewritten and info added, and then I have to try to cut almost 3000 words.

And I’m just done. I can’t do it. I can’t go on.

I have a ton of other work that needs to get done this weekend (like the passive voice there?)–papers to grade, books to read, sections to prepare, a lecture to write, mountains of stinky laundry to do–and I don’t want to do one single piece of any of that, either.

Gospel Bob is meeting the Squirrel at a record store down by our old bar, and told me I should meet up with them around 6:00. Then Jason (which is SO NOT HIS NAME) called and suggested I meet him *at* our old bar, to wait for the Squirrel and GB to finish their record shopping and maybe try to coerce them to have a drink too.

It’s 5:30 pm. I’ve been staring at this prospectus for about four days straight.
It’s Still. Not. Done.

You know what? I’m going to the fucking bar.