I've always been enamored with Henry David Thoreau. He appeals to my introvert. I used to plan out how to live at my grandma's "rustic" cabin (ac but no indoor toilet). Food was always the issue. I need food to live. Gardens are not possible really. And there are snakes. I don't like snakes. But the idea of living alone and writing and writing and writing--oh it sounds like heaven.
In the midst of this week of my first week of full classes (after 5 weeks of weird days off), finishing Mike's stole, getting sick, AND studying for the Literature in English GRE, I find myself longing for a cabin on Walden Pond. It doesn't help that I have to read about Henry David Thoreau while I'm studying.
So tomorrow morning I'm going to be regurgitating every I could possibly know about literature, but I'll be wishing that I was at least taking the test by some body of water.