My life is currently interested in making me suffer a series of minor stresses.

Compared to several people on my flist, I have nothing to complain about. Just to make that clear. At the same time I don't think it's necessary for me to have potential-anaemia, overly-waxy-tinnitussy ears, the realisation I want to be doing the Odyssey paper rather than Sophocles paper (yeah, if I can just read the Odyssey in Greek over the weekend I'll have caught up - I've got to Book 10 - then there's an essay on it for Wednesday), a seminar on Monday about some poems I haven't been able to find in form more legible than this all summer and which, it turns out, aren't in the University Library either (they're available, apparently, but not on the shelves) and my phone freaking out so none of the buttons do what they're supposed to do ALL AT THE SAME TIME. And my laptop is still being ridiculous and pressing apostrophes when none need to be pressed. I've got a program to stop it writing apostrophes when it does it, but it means you can't hold down keys sometimes because something else has nabbed the repeat-pushing thing, and sometimes it blocks off the P key or the semi-colon.

Unimpressed.

Oh, bugger, I need to make myself some food. None of my stuff is clean, but my pyrex bowl only had pasta and peas in it. I'm sure it's fine.

ETA: The phone situation has stabilised. Yay! Alas, all else remains.