I am drained in a half-satisfying, half-restless way. I've spent the day applying for jobs, reading an Ian McEwan novel, knitting for my enormous project which is now almost one-quarter to completion, writing, preparing and tracking magazine submissions [if I don't keep track I could get in trouble], practicing, setting up my new printer, and failing to do math. I finished one poem, which is not very good but not nauseating. I can't wait for Friday. I am going mad.