I’m not quite sure I’m ready to go back to reality yet. After being well for a mere three days I feel like I should have the week that was robbed from me back, if nothing else to at least get the parts of my story I would have been writing in that time done. Time is a cruel mistress, it would seem, and once I start getting coursework again I won’t tire of saying that cliched phrase.
That being said, four weeks off sounds like a long time on paper, and it feels like I’ve been gone a long time. Perhaps it has simply been so long that I’ve forgotten how easy it is to go down to lectures and space my work out so that I don’t trip over all of it at once, landing face first in BSc hell with woodlice on my face and references coming out of my socks. Perhaps what this paragraph is telling you is that I’m drifting off and should begin developing a taste for coffee so I can perk up a little.
That may be so.
I have been a bit slow getting back to standard after being bedridden, so this should probably help me along at least. Surely a kick in the backside is what I need to get this story done by March and not have to rush anything academically?