I continue to be surprised by how tired and worn out I feel. Was it just a week ago that we were finishing up the accreditation visit?
Of course, I'm also tired because I've had to staff 2 Math classes because the instructor can't finish the term. I'm still in the early days of that process because I'm hiring someone new to us, but someone with whom I've worked in the past.
We're doing a motorcycle ride this Sunday, one of those big group rides which I dread. But my spouse really wants to do it, and so I will. At least the weather should be beautiful.
And there's my remaining online class--one last batch of papers to grade and then grades to turn in.
But let me look at the time just beyond this week-end. Let me think about how I'm going to get some writing time back into my life. My poetry muscles feel rusty. Let me read some poetry this week-end to fill that empty well (to mix metaphors here).
I was happy on Wednesday to realize that Margaret Drabble's latest book was on my public library shelves, and so, yesterday, I zipped over to a close branch to grab it. I remember when we first moved down here, 19 years ago, and what a revelation the public library system here was to me. I loved how regional branches were built on the 3 big campuses of the local community college--what a great idea! I loved all the resources I could check out.
Yesterday I felt that familiar thrill of finding a book I want to read, by an author whom I've loved for decades, on a shelf to check out for free.
Now I will go to spin class--hopefully I can improve my mopey mood by exercise.
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