(no subject)

I'm sick, but I'm at work anyway.

The receptionist walked past me at one point and asked, "Was that you hacking up a lung?"

"Yep," I said. "You can't fake that."

(no subject)

I'm going home early. I wish I'd gotten out of here an hour ago, but a coworker decided to chat my ear off.

I'm going to use the few extra hours to work on my grad school cover letter. At least, that's the plan.

Deciding which poems to send has been a trying process. Fun, but trying.

I figure if I overnight my package on Wednesday, it should get to Iowa City by Saturday. Right?

(no subject)

I'm procrastinating. Why am I procrastinating? It must be my built-in response to stress. (I don't deal well with stress.)

So, going over my submission, I'm second-guessing some of my "definites". Then again, I almost forgot that I wanted to include "U.N. Bombing"; I would have kicked myself if I'd left that out.

So I have seven definites, which leaves room for three to five more. I'm going with the fewest number of poems required--no need to pad my application with weak work.

If I weren't ill, maybe I'd be more energized about this.

I didn't work on my cover letter, like I wanted. Seems like that's what I'll be doing tomorrow.