It was relatively simple: provide my professor with a complete abstract and title for my final course paper. Instead, Michelle got depressed. And Depressed Michelle didn't do her work. Instead, Depressed Michelle emailed her professor to let him know her anxiety wasn't cooperating with her and that she would do her best to email him with this completed by the end of the week.
I didn't.
I emailed him to ask his opinion on how to narrow down my topic on Friday. I didn't like his response on Friday. I've forgotten his response now. I haven't been home since 8am on Saturday. I don't want to start working now. I'm scared, I'm tired, I'm sore, and I'm probably getting sick if body aches, chills, and a sore throat are any indication.
I don't regret working this weekend, nor do I regret attending a party on Saturday night. I know that even if I had come home, I wouldn't have gotten much done in terms of school anyway. But what do I do now? Logically, I put my head down and get to work. Practically, I take a nap first. Knowing me, I go to bed in hopes that it just disappears.
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