I have been going, going, going for about ten days now. I was at work on both Saturday and Sunday. I spent yesterday teaching and then, because of some stupid train problems, I was about two hours late coming home. I finished my Bakhtin essay around 10:30 last night, sent it off and slept in the spare bedroom, as, on days when I do not put Mei to bed (consequently freeing Yoko to put Naomi to bed in her own room), everyone ends up in the master bedroom and I would be mad if I tried to brave it. Now it is Tuesday, halfway through Tuesday, and I've come to work to edit my article as it's due on Monday and also, hopefully, work on a couple of articles I downloaded last week, but haven't gotten to reading yet.
My Tuesday morning ritual going to the library to return overdue books and pick up ones I have ordered from the British Library, however, has stopped me cold, as the Bakhtin book I have been waiting for finally came. These are the essays written in deteriorating health, in constant pain. Obviously, I am eager to get to it, but I seem to have been deterred by French.
Luckily, Mei's fever has dropped, so there is some chance that I will be able to sleep in my own bed tonight and have a bit of peace. But at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon, I will find myself in a tiny room with my supervisors and likely end the day scrambling to start the work that will need to be done by the end of the month.
