--I began the second long, long day by listening to the soundtrack from Rent on my way to work. I dropped off my mortgage payment into the mailbox on my way. The irony of belting out my determination not to pay the rent and then mailing my mortgage payment--the irony was not lost on me.
--My administrator colleague friends also listened to Broadway cast albums on their way to work. One listened to The Book of Mormon, and the other listened to Into the Woods. I will let you play armchair psychologist and make your judgments.
--I spent the day redoing a few forms and getting signatures. I spent the day in my office waiting to see if any additional information about my department was needed. It could have been worse. Much, much worse.
--I stayed a bit late to help a colleague. I have spent the whole week saying, "Is there anything I can do to help you with this project?" Last night was the first time that someone said, "If you don't mind staying, I could really use the help."
--I did the photocopying, and she pulled materials out of files. It's not hard work.
--I drove home through flooded streets. Had it really rained that much? As my spouse said, "We've had less flooding with more rain." We moved both cars to the slightly higher ground of the driveway. We checked the back yard. The alley usually floods before the streets. Not last night. It was strange.
--Today, we may or may not find out the results of weeks and months of work--not hard work, but lots of photocopying, hole punching, and putting into binders. And that's after the work of compiling information across several forms and getting documentation--in addition to the work of adding language to syllabi here and taking out information there.
--It could have been worse. Much, much worse.
--Still, I am ready for this season of binders to come to an end. It's a cyclical season--I know that the season of binders will come again. But for now, I am ready for new projects.
--I know that I may look back on those words and shake my head--will it be with a sense of wonder? With an ironic nod? With a sense of foreshadowed doom?
--I am ready for a restored sense of wonder.
Best Essay Collections of 2017 by Women Authors
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