Literary theory hell in Montreal

I'm sitting in an atrociously upholstered easy chair (I mean the color, not the quality) here in The Fun Room (will explain later), typing away at an essay that compares and contrasts Jacques Blais's "L'unite organique de Bonheur d'occasion" and Gilles Marcotte's "Bonheur d'occasion et le grand realisme". I have a cat sleeping on my left leg, a laptop in front of me (obviously), and a Red Bull on the desk next to me. It snowed last night, and for the first time this season it stuck- everything outside is covered in a cotton-like white blanket of ice. I really don't want to write this essay, but if I have to do it, this is the way. I can only think of two (2) additional items which might contribute to my intellectual meanderings as I vomit them into a Word document: Kendra, siting naked on the chair next to me, and a big fat fucking bowl of tasty you-know-what. Mmm...