I bake under stress. Right now, I have three loaves of sourdough (thanks Ma! The starter you gave me is remarkably low-maintenance. I think I'll name it Marcus, since it's so stoic) rising on the stovetop, and 3 blackberry tarts and 1 apple mini-pie sitting on the countertop.
But the paper, praise be, is really almost finished. Hopefully I can avoid the Daily Meltdown today and just clean up the dusty corners, fix up a few footnotes, cobble together the Works Cited, and avoid reading it over so I won't get the urge to fix stuff. I need to be able to not care about how bad it is, and just send it off. I need to be able to forget that famous philosophers will be reading it. (With any luck, maybe they won't read it.)
So, what this means is, today I will be able to: get my TH221 papers back to the students via campus mail, start working on my sermon for Sunday, pull out my comps bibliographies and start working on finalizing them, and start thinking about the online course I'm teaching starting on the 31st and familiarize myself with whatever the heck I'm supposed to be doing for that. Anything else? Probably. Oh yeah, there's the thingy I should have finished and sent back to Hamilton ages ago, and the article that I never formatted to send off to Zygon that I should work on. I also need to make a menu & grocery list for the upcoming week.
So, I gotta get up off my cute round fanny and get going. But at least I'll have fresh baked homemade bread to fortify myself with...
1 comment:
Em, Em, Em...you keep the starter in the fridge anyhow. Plus, there's nothing to this bread. You dump everything in a bowl, mix it up, and let it sit. That's it, that's all. And then you bake and EAT, EAT, EAT in a race against time and mold. For Time and Mold wait for no man. Or woman. Or loaf of bread.
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