Exhausted. Came in to the office after Lisa’s and my walk (which, absolute YAY!! that we're back into our Thang - for both of us) to do about A Little Hour of very manageable WebCT stuff that I’ve nonetheless been putting off for days. So behind on work right now. My poor students have been waiting WELL over a week for the last chapter’s grades to be posted. Such infinite lameness manifesting itself in my life these days (I'm trying not to be so hard on myself, so this syntax allows me to pretend that lameness and procrastination are entities unto themselves, gremlins come to wreak havoc in what would otherwise be my oh-so-efficient-&-organized life… OK, well, granted this tack would be more effective if I dialed down the cynicism). It’s like part of me just shut down and can’t do work any more; no, I mean even before I was pooped... Not that it was doing that much in the first place of course, but well. (OK well yeah that's the Mean Me speaking... Still infinite room for improvement obviously.) So this week in my panic to get stuff done I’ve reverted still further to the standard Susan M.O.; been making myself stay up later and later and later but am so fried I can’t figure out what to do or how to attack the list of no less hefty than necessary tasks, which has reached a length best tackled wearing seven-league boots. Alas. The latest bout of Deer In Headlights Syndrome is total and absolute. Plus, (contemplate the mystery) thanks to less and less sleep I’m less and less able (or inclined) to get the aforementioned work done even if I could see the forest for the trees. I even broke out my old day planner! (You know it’s got to be bad; that is normally unearthed only in cases of interstate or international changes of household.)
Hmph. It both is and isn't this bleak. Bleakness by turns, I guess. Today I just happen to feel more flip about it than desolate.
On a slightly lighter note (mostlykindasortainaway), Sammers helped contribute to today’s fatigue, too (just so you know it is not all Susan sitting up all hours staring at the work she’s supposed to be doing and then finally giving up around 1 or 2 a.m. each night). He was in the doghouse this morning more than he has been in months. He climbed on my desk and reached up to the shelf above and somehow dragged my little 1981 Spanish Dannon yogurt jar full of pushpins to the edge so that it came crashing down and pushpins cascaded all over the bedroom hardwood -- at 3:30 a.m., mind you, after my going to bed about 1h15. Mostly it scared the pee wadding out of me because it was a hugely weird noise, then I was leery that the jar had broken (no, thank goodness, and btw quel miracle... oh go on! it is truly the coolest little jar, plus -Hello- can you say 400 pounds of sentimental value from my very first time in Madrid?) I literally tossed him into the hallway and shut the door so I could pick up the pushpins which were everywhere. Lucy was almost evicted too as she was kind of in the way for part of the process but then redeemed herself by finding 4 or 5 I had not seen. I finally let Sam Henry back in and amazingly went right back to sleep, but was awakened 3 more times in the next 20 minutes when they would find a pushpin and it would be scraping around on the floor as they played pushpin hockey. We finally got them ALL picked up and I got back to sleep pour de bon. I could hardly even speak to Sammers. I am truly screwed if this is the new game - pulling things off that shelf (all my pens, art supplies, desk-y things and trinkets that were heretofore catproof)… oh yes, doubtless one of these days I’ll be laughing about this but not if he adds it to his list of regular pastimes...
WebCT is calling.
Thank you to Fielding for a hefty chunk of chapter titlage (cf. Tom Jones).
Most of the Sam shenanigans story is from an email today, FTR. I trust the emailee won't care.
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