I have a 1500-word essay to do: developing an argument about the representation of the treatment of children in Oliver Twist. It is due a week from Thursday. Other than reading the book, I've not done a thing. Instead, I have wasted valuable time by:
watchd this dog destroy 74 balloons, over and over again
developed an unhealthy obsession with Pinterest
bitten my nails, while simultaneously despising myself for doing so
printed this and stuck it to the wall, at eye level in an attempt to inspire me to do something
opened The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Victorian Age several times, only to close it, using the excuse that my brain has liquified.
watched Archie (the original Archie, that is) with unbridled jealousy and wished, not for the first time, that I had his life: