Ok: I need breakfast and coffee, I also have no groceries, I need to clean my apt esp the Kitchen of Filth (otherwise known as the Pit of Despair and Dishes), I need to do laundry, I need to return (possibly copy and return) two overdue ILLs, I need to write a massive project that is immanently due, I need to email two profs, I need to fix a couple grading snafus from summer, and, of course, make progress on my job materials. So, to rearrange:
breakfast at neighborhood coffee shop and
- plow through massive project (at least figure out where I was when I left off),
then groceries once I'm too jittery to write dump off ILLs at school while I'm in the car then throw some laundry in and
- clean at least the kitchen
- fix grade problem
- email my committee
Update: (and I balanced my checkbook and picked up drycleaning, which has been ready for two weeks now. Go me!)
Now I will cook something delicious. I may also need a manicure to counteract the nastiness of a mountain of dishes.
This is not a snarky typo-catching comment: I just really like the idea of something being "immanently due." Like its due-ness is innately a part of its being; the project is identical with its due-ness.
Now that I think about it, maybe that wasn't a typo. Eh?
Here's hoping that by now (early PM) you're settling back, proud that you got it all done!
heu mihi, I have problems with my i's and a's and my ite's and ate's. Vowels, my nemesis. It's a sign that I'm no longer a copy editor, sigh (the sticky keyboard is a different set of mistakes here).
That said, I have been reading a lot of that one Marx blogger who is always going on about the immanent position of criticism.
But actually, I think the project not being done is what is immanent to its due-ness. The more it is due, the more it is not done. Sigh.
Call me f*ing nuts, but I love reading other people's to do lists. Which I guess is why I torture everyone with my own. (Dissertation so successfully -- I flailed toward the finish line! I threw myself at it -- and eventually my c'tee was tired of seeing me hit the pavement. This is my theory. Eventually the asphalt in the cheek gets to people.)
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