My sore throat woke me up. Hello, allergy season.

I hate finals. I'm too old for this. First person to tell me it's my own fault gets a kick in the ass.

I've e-mailed interview questions to a photographer who's friendly with my very cool aunt (who has been pulling miracles out of the air for months; what would we do without her?).

I'm rewriting my piece on Berenice Abbott to include the style and analysis notes I would have used if I had done my presentation in class, then setting it up on my site with the pictures I had planned to use and e-mailing the link to my professor.

I need to review the reading and study the exam-prep information online. The exam is Friday.
From the Credit Where Credit Is Due Department: I must mention that my photography professor has gone above and beyond the bounds of ordinary kindness. She's been understanding of my emotional issues (I don't mean PMS; I mean nearly losing my mother in March) and incredibly supportive of my efforts to pass her class. She's just a really terrific woman, and I want that down on the record. And no, to the best of my knowledge, she doesn't read my journal, so the peanut gallery in the back can stop snickering. You kids get off my lawn!

Anyway.

When that's done, I need to reread everything we've read in rhetorical theory since the middle of the term so I can be ready for that exam on Tuesday. I've already turned in my final project.

Does anyone have an extra brain and an extra pair of hands they could lend for a couple of days? I can't promise to take good care of them, but they'd get lots of exercise.