Why does it always seem that everything has to be done at once? Why can’t busy times spread themselves out? I have hit a lovely point where I have papers to comment on (had to ask for an extension from my students), a chapter to write, stuff to read for class, an election to judge, and more. Gah! It will get done, but it’s gonna be a little frantic. And then there will be Thanksgiving and I gorge myself and put myself into a food-induced stupor. I think I’m gonna need that.