Finicky, finicky, I am fussing over the very last of my syllabi, since the very last of my classes, Publication Studies, meets for the first time tomorrow, and God knows if there were even more time to flutter and flap and quack around that syllabus, I would take it. But just now, having added the last (ha! no way!) reading and activity and event to the schedule, I am reckoning with the fact that, right around April, there will be a lotsa stuff a-happening, such as the new issue of Folio, my last as faculty advisor; the chapbook launch; consultations a plenty, since in December I decided in a brilliant flash that all of my students--all!--would do better if I consulted with each of them twice in the semester instead of once; and portfolios to review; and drafts to read at the very last minute; and so on and so forth.
This explains why--I'm owning up to this fact--I saw the opportunity to not be in my office this afternoon. Most Thursdays I will be in the Writing Center and then at meetings. But the Writing Center is quiet until next week, and I had no meetings, so I talked to the young poets about devices of sound, and we read the hell out of a little Bob Hickok poem, and then I checked my e-mail one more time and hightailed it outta there lickety split, to come home and finicky finicky fuss around with that last syllabus yet one more time (if by "one more time" we mean "all afternoon").
p.s. I love my delicious account. I was able to harvest a kajillion interesting links from it today as I flarfed around with the course. Yay social bookmarking!
p.p. s. College daughter...back at college. Christmas is over! We opened all the presents!