I go home this week, and that's scary.

Okay, I have just written in two days the equivalent of an eighteen-page paper on a story by Kafka that is only two pages long. I want a fucking PRIZE. Alternatively, an ice cream cone.

Mmm, ice cream.

In related news, that's the last paper. So now all I have to do is revise them, put them in shiny colorful report covers, and turn them in. Also pack. And do all the stuff I want to do before I leave Germany. *sniff*

( Kafka is just too precious )