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Pregnancy brain is apparently a myth, but I wish I had the excuse today.
At the moment, I am supposed to be doing at least one of the following:
1) Reading the last few pages of a novel before class starts in two hours.
2) Writing a 10-page paper that's due in one week.
3) Writing a 20-page paper that's due in two weeks.
4) Scheduling summer workshops for work.
What I am actually doing is much simpler: avoiding 1-4. It's not that I try to avoid them. I pick up my book with gusto (okay, maybe not gusto). I read a page, maybe two. Then, I suddenly realize that the last two paragraphs haven't registered at all. Instead, I'm thinking about what I should do for dinner tonight, whether or not I remembered to mail off the bills I filled out last night, and--yes, of course--hundreds of fleeting, random thoughts about this human being growing inside of me.
I'm tempted to use the human-growing thing as a legitimate excuse, but it wouldn't be fair. I was not at all pregnant at the end of last semester, and I found myself watching back-to-back episodes of the British drama Skins on Netflix instant watch while considering the most effective way to reorganize my kitchen cabinets.
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No, this is not pregnancy brain, this is just my plain-old-everyday brain, trying to trick me into avoiding work. I managed to get everything together at the end of last semester, and I'll do it again this semester. The procrastination just adds some excitement!
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