*Usually this means Random Bulletpoints of Crap (coined by Ianqui, I believe), but today, for me, it means Random Bulletpoints of Craziness.
Argh. I have *nothing* under control. I am a mess. To wit:
- There are unwashed dishes all over the kitchen counter; magazines, bills, and tax documents covering the dining room table; and dog hair everywhere.
- I am not sleeping well and may need to resort to the Ambien again.
- Perhaps if I take Ambien again I will stop having bizarre stress dreams such as the one last night about trying to make churros which keep getting cold before I can serve them, inspiring my dream-self to rationalize that it's OK because churros are just a kind of donut and donuts are served cold.
- I just realized that I was supposed to review an article for a journal and give them my notes/response by last week. Fuck. I think I said yes to this back in December. It's really quite a miracle that I remembered now, since I'd left it off all to-do lists and calendars. And when I remembered, for a moment I thought it was perhaps just another stress dream I'd had. I e-mailed the editor and promised to do it today. I hope she doesn't hate me.
- I've got a conference to go to and speak at in three weeks and the paper I'm giving is supposed to be an expansion of last year's K'zoo paper. I've done little if any new work on it. If I'm lucky I'll get a page of new material into it. Please keep your fingers crossed for me that the people who heard it at K'zoo and will be at this conference, too, will decide to see another panel in my time slot.
- I'm supposed to be planning a research trip to London this summer but haven't even started. Does any body have any good ideas about affordable places to stay for 3-4 weeks in London?
- I've got stacks of grading to do. Of course. I should've had some of it done by now. Of course.
- I have no clean underwear except thongs.
- I can't remember the last time I shaved my legs.
- Wiley needs a good brushing in his 'arm pits' and around his back haunches because he's starting to get a wee bit matted in those places. I'm a bad foster-mom.
- I still haven't sent out my change of address to friends and family who haven't specifically asked for it. I moved in July! (Nope, didn't get Xmas cards sent this year.)