File under: Britches (too big for)

Most of the time, when things are going well, I keep it quiet. It’s basically insurance against a sudden dive. But sometimes, despite myself, I get braggy.

Case in point. It’s my busy week, the week in which I voluntarily assigned myself 20 student stories to read and respond to. Why? I’m not even sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time. After the second workshop, I gave my students the option to do workshops of ten people instead of workshops of five (aka, ten stories to read per week for me). They were all, No! No! We LOVE the small workshops! So what could I do?

Read 20 stories in a week. Again.

On Monday, in an unprecedented burst of mingled insight and productivity, I responded to five stories in the span of a few hours. Then I told S what a badass I am. La! Such a badass. On Tuesday I only got through two responses. Last night, I managed to get through three, but was up later than I wanted to be in the process.

So yeah. All my blather has resulted in significantly diminished productivity. I’m halfway through the process and tonight is the season finale of Project Runway, which I simply must watch (despite the guest judge stylings of one Faith Hill, who, however lovely as a person, is unlikely to produce sartorial critique of any substance or value…is she a nod to the usual Lifetime demographic? Is Milla’s inexplicable win over Jay likewise attributable to their meddling?).

Lifetime. Self-induced work overload. [throws head back, yells] Whhyyyyyy??



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