its not you, it's the paper

in the last four tortuous hours as I've been awaiting a return call from the prof and trying desperatly to muddle my way through the rest of the paper, i've thrown a tantrum, feined blindness, and become suseptable to random outbursts of less than plesant language.

the fiancee just shakes his head and says, 'it's not you, love, it's the paper'.

great. thanks.

couragiously (maybe) onward....