But school is supposed to be easy!

On Sunday I did twelve hours writing a twenty-some page paper about something library-related. I'm not quite sure what it was about now, which I assume was NOT the goal of the instructor. But then, as I can't figure out what the hell she's writing about on a regular basis (it's a fully-online course), assuming anything could be dangerous.

I keep expecting a giant wake-up Hello! from the old colon, as A. and I are:

a) Packing and moving one carfull at a time until the giant truck load-up on Sunday.
b) In the midst of writing thesis proposals (A.) and pretending to do homework while really reading Jim Butcher (me)
c) Snapping out of satisfying-book glow and freaking out when homework continues, inexorably, to be due when it was supposed to be due (me).
d) Meeting new hippie neighbors - I won't say what they have named their child, but it rhymes with derby.
e) Pills from Ol' Reliable (Medco) not arriving
f) Supposed to be graduate students with superior intellects (at least compared to the other cockroaches)

But so far, nothing. My back pain has morphed into genuine lifting-boxes back pain as opposed to the sneaky-UC-colon-attack pain I thought it to be.

The new apartment is still beguiling, thankfully. It smells like new paint and old dust. The bedroom floor is so warped it's aspiring to be a skate course. The kitchen is unbelievably spacious. And our landlord replaced the toliet with a water-saver. I thought it was a trick until I sat down: it's more comfortable than the old one.

Overall, this week entails: work, preparatory article/book search for a literature review that I should've started last week, two reference interviews where I annoy/stump/titillate a librarian and then write a scathing account of the transaction, change addresses with fifty million different people, eat crap, drink beer, look for boxes, cry, punch A., kiss A., swear at LOST, swear at Firefly, swear at homework, and make teensy dents in the moving process by packing and unpacking boxes.

ETA: Medco just arrived in the work mail. If I can only put away the pleasure reading and the mood swings, this week might just work out.