I'm feeling oddly anxious. Started last night, still going. Dunno why -- as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong. I have work due in a bit, but nothing imminently, and in fact, despite still being sick (ah yes -- living with Kevin means that we both have a perpetual cold all autumn and winter -- I'd forgotten), I've gotten a lot done in the last few days. The paperwork is down to something like three items. The e-mail is under 50 messages. The to-do list is also down to a few items (though some of them are long-ish). I do have an awesome number of books to read by the end of December, and that might be contributing a bit. Maybe if I finish off Unbearable Lightness (exam) and Hunted (Tiptree -- and M'ris and Karen, you might want to keep an eye out for this young adult novel about a young girl in a coma who is living a parallel life as a fox creature) soon, that'll help. It may just be that I have multiple books going at once that's the problem, now that I think about it. I usually try to avoid that -- it just sort of happened yesterday. I also started reading a new Valdemar book by Lackey, just 'cause, but I'm not allowed to go back to that until I finish these two, at the very least. Possibly not for longer.
At 12:30, Nnedi is coming by to talk about teaching composition stuff; she feels like she's been thrown in to sink or swim in her department. We'll see if I can help at all. In the meantime, read read read. And in the afternoon, read some more.
It's funny -- when I was a little girl looking for a job where I got to read all the time, I didn't expect that I'd find it tiring. Maybe I just had more stamina when I was twelve.