Meh.

Here it is, Wednesday afternoon of "fall" semester that begins in the middle of the summer. Every year it seems like we start earlier and yet we get out at the same time every December. What used to be distinct periods of time now all seem to bleed together, even overlap, and the separation I enjoyed between the various arenas of my life is now one big jumble. For example, Andrew is now my office mate at Metro (which is no small feat given how many people reside in how many offices of the English department), and I ran into Greg Howard in the hallway a few minutes ago. He's so nice, and part of me wishes I knew him better, but alas, there is never time. So DU life has bled into Metro life, summer classes have bled into fall, and winter and spring will ooze into summer next year. Just thinking about it makes me tired.

And I'm going through some kind of ennui of late in which I feel overwhelmed and nearly paralyzed by the magnitude of what I have to accomplish in the coming months. Then it makes me wonder why I'm bothering at all, which launches me headlong into an existential mortality crisis, and this is not good. I fight it off by counting my steps in threes, using three towels in the bathroom to dry my hands (whether or not three are actually required), drinking three cups of coffee, composing lists in my head into threes, counting backward from a thousand by three, dreaming in threes. Thinking in threes.
1
2
3
1
2
3
1
2
3
1
2
3
1
2
3

I need a break and a vacation, and I'm just getting started. It's far too early in the day to be this glum.