You know how you're really stressed out, and your clavicles are all achey and probably filled with killer toxins (probably in the marrow or maybe just coating the underside of the bones with a scum of angst and black mold), and you keep looking up from the teetering stack of student papers hoping that the tallest stack is the finished one, but it's not, and it NEVER IS?
And how you foolishly assigned your seniors a group project to design their own utopia (It's impossible! That's the point!), conveniently forgetting how last year at this time this exact same assignment caused you to lose all faith in the human race, you again wanted to cry a little when one group announced you would be free to marry your brother in their society, but a parking ticket would earn you a permanent trip to a big, barren plot of land called "The Dirt" which offered no food, water, toilets, or shelter, and that your slow, torturous death would be televised on HBO as a deterrent to other parking offenders?
And how your freshmen this year have the collective IQ of cottage cheese?
But they don't care, because HAHAHA, Jeremy just bit the head off a cockroach! For REALS!!! ? And how you think that Jeremy, who weighs less than your forearm but is six feet tall, could use the protein to help support his bulbous, mohawk-sporting head?
And you know how you keep thinking about all your nice friends in blogland (who are all writing genius posts about chimps, and naked dinosaur weddings, and bicycles, and prom sex and more), who don't even know that you have recently met a big man who wrestles grizzly bears and lives in a castle, because you have to give a final exam soon that you haven't actually created yet and there's been no time to post?
And how you also wish you could tell them that your neighbor, the Gazing Ball Man, has been targeted by a roving band of international lawn flamingo thieves, and there were police involved?
Well. Chin up, little buckaroo. Ibuprofen is on sale and soon this will all end for another year. In a few days there will be margaritas, and joyous singing of freedom-oriented songs, and a blogpost worthy of your patient friends.
Get back to work.
PS. The cats have rolled your red pen under the couch again.