Pardon me Madame, but I'll sleep when I'm dead.

The independent study is a go. I must admit I feel bad about burdening a obviously busy professor and talented poet with a flake such as myself. Of course he had the option of saying no, but I feel like I should've included a disclaimer when I waltzed into his office and started blabbing about an independent study. Although maybe the fact that I had no idea what I was talking about when I situated myself in his office yet again today was a fair warning. But I got the signature from him, and as long as I remember to return the form to the Registrar it's a go.
I don't know what the hell I was thinking, sitting one on one staring at this person week after week, both of us expecting some profound verse to find its way onto the desk. However, seeing as how I also have to find a way to make my Defense of Literature live up to the rather high expectations Professor Sha has for it before 2 p.m. tomorrow, I think I can worry about the independent study at a later time. Right now, it's time to throw myself into the fire. Again.