Screwed, Blued, Tattooed

That title comes to you courtesy of my father, who had such a flair with the common vernacular. That was one of his favorites, along with "my way or the highway," "who's we, white man" and "it must be 5 o'clock somewhere in the world." A charmer he was. But I find that some of his phrases float back to me at certain moments when I'm deeply in need of some cliched, vulgar way of describing my situation. And that's it in a nutshell.

I had the best of intentions today, I really did. I got up early and busted out those last three papers (one of which I'd been saving because the student makes me grind my teeth. Often in her presence. You know when you have someone who just gets on your last nerve? Like comes to your office and tells you how sick she is and coughs all over the place and then touches everything and leaves? Or else, despite your warnings, decides to use Yahoo answers as a secondary source in her paper?!!). Did that, and then got ready to chip the 1/4 of ice off my car and go into school. Except that my favorite neighbor's car wouldn't start. So we called AAA. And they came in about an hour, and then took another 45 minutes to load up her poor little coche on the tow truck. And by that time, it was almost 1. So I got to my office, dealt with a couple of crap admin tasks, and then started working on another stack. Why do I never learn?

So it's 10:30 and I have a stack of rubrics and 21 short (2 page) assignments to read before the final tomorrow at 11. Who's up for a little sleep deprivation?