I got the second of three teaching evaluations done last Friday, worked myself out of all the work that piled up and am now a free agent
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I spent all day today alternately knitting and writing. My hands are about ready to stage a coup, but, oh, glorious creativity, I'm trying out a new stitch and I'm absolutely certain that I'll actually finish the story I'm writing
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I should be working on three tests and two lessons for next week. Instead I'm reading sappy fanfic and plotting modern fairy tale adaptations starring a werewolf Red Riding Hood and Rumpelstiltskin, the serial killer fae.
I feel that a headache is imminent and unavoidable.
So apparently the fact that I have yet to break down sobbing at work due to pressure, stress and lack of sleep after four months makes me weird
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