Seven days. Seven days that will be horrible and evil and wretched... BUT! I shall survive. Because come next Tuesday, I begin sleeping in to ridiculous times, spending hours and hours writing or drawing or playing solitaire, traveling off to far and distant lands, AND.... cleaning my room. And bathroom. They are a horrible mess. But I will clean them because I will have TIME! Lots and lots of time... Time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea. Someday I will have this poem memorized. I once knew the first half, but I'm afraid I've forgotten much of it.
Anyway. This is no time for recreational reading, however enjoyable it may be. This is the time for KILLING FINALS.
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