I’m thrilled for summer.

The sun’s neat and everything, but there’s nothing quite like poking your eyes out, waiting for the end of a tough semester.

In high school, senioritis comes three-and-a-half years into your four-year term. In college, it comes every 18 weeks. There’s no escaping it; it’s merely a fact of life in place just to spite us.

My third-year senioritis, however, has brought me a new perspective. Hours, minutes, step aside!

I now measure my units of time in episodes of “Gilmore Girls.” Yes, I’ve gone the way of Hugh Grant in “About a Boy” with my kooky time-telling format, but it’s great. Here’s my train of thought:

One episode of “Gilmore Girls” = about 45 minutes = slightly less than a Monday-Wednesday-Friday class.

It’s the end of a semester, so going to class has gained importance. Logan is tasty, though, and Luke and Lorelai’s future is equally important. TV-induced heart pitter-patter definitely wins in the appeal department. Sorry, lecture, let’s reschedule.

Four episodes of “Gilmore Girls” = about three hours = a night class.

Wow, this one is so tough, I’m going to use a coin. Seeing the reconciliation of Richard and Emily in season five or being lectured on the idiosyncrasies of realism in German literature.

Heads: “Gilmore Girls.” Tails: “Gilmore Girls.” I wonder which way this one will go.

One season of “Gilmore Girls” = about 16 hours = the time I should be using to study for two of my three-credit classes.

Either I can better understand the economic media management theories and how clouds are formed, or I can watch Rory break-up Dean’s marriage. That is a turning point in the characters’ lives. See, I just don’t remember how the two manage to finagle their tryst as not to get caught by the Star’s Hollow gossip brigade.

I think watching “Gilmore Girls” is justified; I’ll just be studying another form of management.