After a full shift at the retail store (this time I mean it: after I quit this job, which won't be for another year-ish, I am NEVER working retail again), I came home and started catching up and getting ahead on some reading in preparation for my Three Weeks of Manic and Ultimately Pointless Paper Writing Marathon. I read. And I read. Then I ate some goldfish crackers. But then I read some more. Five hours later, I had completed a few weeks' worth of reading for one of my classes, including typing up all of my errant notes, and am now barely willing to even accept the mountain of work I need to do tomorrow to stay on top of things (speaking of which, does anyone have any thoughts on communist-inspired poetry from the Great Depression? I didn't think so). Plus, my glands are swollen and I'm getting that soapy feeling in my mouth, which means a cold's a'comin'. Aaron took the dog and went to a friend's house for the day and I got lucky and the roommates happened to be gone all day -- otherwise, I would have had to lock myself in the room and would have fallen asleep instead of being productive. "But Morgan," you might query, "why wouldn't you just go to a coffee shop or campus to get your studying done?" And this would be my response: leaving the house = spending money = defeating the purpose of working two jobs. Sigh. Will it ever end?