The Wrath of Kubla Khan

Using my keen math skills, I've figured out that my MA program requires 30 credits, and at the end of this semester, I'll have 19+9 credits.  Which I am almost certain is more than half of 30.  Which means that I either need to start looking for a career or, ideally, a new way to avoid contributing anything to society ever.

If I've learned anything useful from literary scholarship, it's that 19th century white people love eating opium and then staring out the window for six hours (which, let me assure you, good sirs, is vastly superior to the savage method in which the Turk consumes his opium and communes with his fellow dusky barbarian!)  So I'm growing poppies.

Poppies, according to that episode of Seinfeld, somehow magically turn into opium.  Once these little seedlings turn into Heroin Blossoms and I figure out how exactly you make stupid flowers into drugs, I am going to be all set.  I have no idea what the street price is for homemade heroin/opium (or the Etsy price), but I assume it's got to be enough to avoid putting off a job search for at least a couple of months.