trying to get myself dooced out of gradschool

My wonderful mother (Claire’s Oma) came all the way to our house tonight to watch the girl while Nate worked late and I tried to pump out some nearly overdue homework. I started out on my computer, but the keyboard decided it would be awesome if a button or two stuck (this has never happened before). Sections of my paper ended up looking like I let Claire or Lindsay Lohan type it for me. I then moved into the living room and began working feverishly on Nate’s laptop. The whole time, my girl is fussing because she knows I’m home and is wondering why in the world I’m not hanging out with her. I’m researching this stuff that seems so silly and small compared to her cries and begin to wonder the same thing. I put down my books and the laptop and she instantly settles on in my arms. So, not surprising, it turns out that the thing I'm best at isn't writing papers or being a graduate student.
I have a few parting thoughts for the insanity, but I'll save that for another post.