I’m a little stuck, honestly. A little overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, to write, to prepare, to learn for the coming year.
Only a little. I haven’t taken to my bed. I’m not lying in a darkened room for days on end, hand on clammy forehead, gazing heavenwards with a martyred expression, off my bodiced tits on laudanum. I’m not — quite — in hiding. I’ve managed to trudge through some chores, eking out gradual progress towards being able to survive the term. Just not enough, not fast enough.
It’s nearly fucking September, for crying out loud.
Not lying in a darkened room, but still. Displacing a bit. Should I write this lecture about communications protocols, or order a box of dodgy op amps from Aliexpress? Hmm, let’s see.
Yes, chances are I’ll never get around to using those knock-off MCP6002s, but that’s for the best since they probably won’t work anyway.
That lecture already features C-3PO, the Ferrero Rocher ambassador and a game of Simon Says, btw. There might be video evidence at some point. Assuming I live through this one, that is:
First week of term. First year undergraduates. Twice. God help me.