I got a disease, deep inside me...

I have a terrible case of whatever it is that makes you not want to do your French homework. This is a powerful almost inability to make myself do it. For instance, here I am not doing it again. I spent four hours at work today not doing it as well. Believe me, there wasn't much actual work to do. This problem is specific to French homework. I don't have any problem doing other homework, but when I sit down to do French, other things happen. This morning, at work, I opened Ava to work on this essay for French and I ended up writing five pages in my novel, which I haven't worked on in over a month. I just randomly opened it up and started writing a scene where Hillary pays Ava's rent without telling her. I told myself I would just write that scene and then I'd do French and, well, five pages later... I actually had a dream last night about how wonderful my life would be if I didn't have French. It's not even difficult. It's just tedious and always there. I'm never ahead, just always barely caught up. It's a good thing there are only about six weeks left in the semester.