I still haven't had to pull an all-nighter - which is admittedly kind of pointless when your assignments are all due at 5pm and you'd just pass out on your desk during the daytime - but yesterday was my first late-nighter, where I stayed up until about 4am refreshing results from the Florida primary and working on both of the two (!!) essays that I'm supposed to send off tonight. I meant to do all of this on Monday, but Monday was Burns Night, where everyone celebrated the legacy of Robert Burns by drinking port, going to dinner and eating lamb and haggis, and then drinking whiskey and doing some Scottish dancing. I actually kind of liked haggis, which is maybe unsuprising because my only innard-related point of reference was tripe, and tripe isn't especially hard to beat. (Also, the dessert was like oatmeal with whiskey in it, and everyone was like, what the fuck kind of dessert is this, and I was like, oh, I know, but basically inhaled it because I think oatmeal is one of the best things ever and it certainly doesn't hurt to throw whiskey into it. I've hypothesized that this is true of all breakfast foods, but I haven't tested it yet. Yet.) And Scottish dancing was awesome, despite the fact that a) I can't dance and b) I'm permanently deaf after standing directly behind a bagpipe in a stairwell, which I wouldn't recommend trying. Plus, I got to eat dinner with Nikki, R. Dave, and Sarah, who I've barely seen since the insanity that is this term began, and then Debs and Erika and the rest of the gang showed up for the celidh afterwards. Who wants to go write an essay after that? Anyway, I got back mid-morning with a carton of eggs and a thing of coffee (and looking very much like hell) and surveyed my desk and was like, whoops, better get cracking. So I went and made an omelet, but then I did get cracking. And twenty-four hours later, I'm within spitting distance of the finish line and fairly buzzed on adrenaline and coffee.
(Sadly, you can't say the same for Rudy Giuliani, but so it goes.)
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