I just got back from the eye clinic (third time in two months). My wait-in-the-waiting-room-in-an-uncomfortable-ass-chair time was three hours. But I had Matt Taibbi's The Great Derangement riding shottie, so the wait was actually a nice reprieve from how I've lately been spending a Monday morning slash afternoon: conferencing with my students (who are now sweating bullets because their final portfolios - constituting 50% of their grade for my class - are due in 2 1/2 weeks) about how to write. I'm actually impressed with where most of my students are, skill-wise. They've, surprisingly, become better writers over the course of the semester (I'm not that great of a teacher). On more than one occasion, they've even made me say "Yeah! Word! Wish I'd written that!" As for my stye - well, predictably, they lanced and drained it (again, third time in two months). Know what's weird? It doesn't even hurt when they do it now. I just automatically man up (i.e. dissociate and die on the inside a little).
"Sir, this will probably sting a-"
"I know. Go ahead. I'm fine."
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