As an academic, weekends were never quite freeing for me, Gentle Reader. My work bleeds into nights and weekends and holidays (I love holidays, work uninterrupted by grading). But I feel like Fridays particularly mean nothing right now. Sunday is the only day that feels like it means something to me, because it’s when I put my plans together for the week (that I do or do not follow).
I’m sinking. I’m falling deep into a hole and I’m trying to claw my way out.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 