Ka-BOOM. I’ve been driving my family insane and grossly neglecting academia. I have one day to read about 500 pages ranging from Dickens’ Hard Times to essays on “deep comic theory” and the hybrid identites of Pakistani Muslim women (um… those being separate topics). It’s weird—my hyper-stressed, übercathected person should be freaking out at this point, but I’m all hakuna matata like some crazy Buddha, with the rice steamer is my bedroom making me a sauna and the techno turned up LOUD. (This is the part where you snap your fingers).
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