Take-home Property exam. Allotted word count: 4,500. Hours squandered so far: 8. Percentage of my brain space dedicated to anything other than the "sanity break" I'm going to take when Justin gets here at midnight: 14.
I'm watching 10. I'm eating seasoned edamame and fried rice. I have no interest in this take-home. Patrick, who poured my kiwi strawberry juice, may have also spiked it with Bacardi Limon. That's what my tastebuds are telling me, anyway. I understand less and less how it is possible to get anything done at twenty-three. My whole brainspace is occupied by positions, rhythms.
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