she says, wake up. it's no use pretending.

I have accomplished no work in the last 24 hours, as per the plan. Except. I trekked up to the library this morning to distract myself from the weirdest night of my life. I found a bunch of books for my monster Women's Studies paper on endometriosis and sat on the floor in the stacks reading them and listening to the breakup playlist for almost an hour. That must rank somewhere on the Pre-Reading-Week-Productivity Scale. I took the 11 home because it was the only bus in the loop. The sun was out, my purse was full of research material, I saw some cherry blossoms, and I knew. I just knew. I'm fine. Everything is fine. The apocalypse is over and I'm still alive. And kicking. Or something.