growl

It is remotely possible that if another student knocks on that door in the next ten minutes I may utter a short, sharp scream and run amok with the staple remover. I like students, honestly I do, but not continuously. I seem to be entering a sort of twilight zone where I'm giving moebius curriculum advice to an endless string of more or less interchangeable students, with no end in sight. Also, I don't like to think of myself as an agent of terrible, unreasonable bureaucracy or anything, but can't the little buggers read the pithy, pointed notice on my door, and bring along the relevant documents? Honestly.

I should add, for the record, that my staple remover is orange, translucent and shaped like a pelican, which should add a pleasing touch of surreality to the proceedings.

Last Night I Dreamed: I was an incognito princess doing the goosegirl thing, only with a medium-sized herd of (rather affectionate) miniature dragons rather than a flock of geese. Lateral dream implication leads me to suspect I was also having a dodgy relationship with a full-sized dragon who could take giant human form in order to climb up to my window, à la Rapunzel. At any rate the eventual and inevitable prince was extremely annoyed when my lack of enthusiasm suggested he, um, lost by the comparison.