I spent the night marking English tests. There was about a hundred left to go when I started, and I finished by six in the morning. It wasn’t due to my high working morale or my love for my work (both of which are nonexistent), but due to me being stubborn. I decided I would get rid of the filth before I go to sleep (so that I could spend the next day and night working on something cleaner).
When I say filth, I mean filth in all senses of the word. The materials inherited from the teacher I’m substituting are not only useless owing to their being thickly covered in illegible scribbling but are also disgustingly dirty. It’s a shame that the lady teacher hasn’t heard of foil wrapping yet. Where the hell was she during her first grade when foil wrapping of everything used in class was obligatory?
On the upside, the cat enjoys chewing the dog ears of the books and the heavily cracked CD case. I just hope she won’t get some English inflection (the cat, not the teacher).
As I was halfway through the night and the marking, I noticed with pleasure how much time had lapsed without me checking compulsively the clock in order to evaluate to what extent I’ve been hard-working so far. My pleasure was short-lived when I realised it was the night of the big time shift (not to be confused with tense shift). Actually, I must have been working like whole ten minutes when my computer stealthily changed the time and lo, suddenly it was seventy minutes later.
I distrust time. How can I trust something that is so easily manipulated? It’s not only the constant time shifts, twice a year, like it made a difference. It’s also, for example, that your age changes every year. How do you remember your current age when it’s such a subject to change? I’m seriously asking. Because I don’t remember it and no matter how hard I claim to be subverting the concept of time, it makes me look like an idiot. Every single time.