This is just to say

that I'm so tired, and I gave in to a mid-evening nap which I am sure I shall regret. I have done some grading. Not all the grading I have to do, but some. I have written my poem. The Bruiser is in despair that he will not have his walk, but he is wrong. He will have his walk. And then I will go to bed. (I was going to do an echo there of I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, but it was too hard. I've given you the raw materials--go ahead if you're inclined.)

Open letter to my blog.

Dear Hightouchmegastore,

Have I neglected you of late? I believe that I have, and I want you to know I'm aware of this fact, and it gnaws at me a little. I would offer you an explanation, or a series of explanations, but I think, honestly, you know: I overcommitted in a big, big way over--let's face it--the last two years. So this is the homestretch of my overcommitment.

I can see you waiting, hightouchmegastore, with your week-old post, and the lengthy intervals between the posts before that, and actually, rather than the afore-mentioned gnawing, I feel a little lift of my spirits. And that's because it's the middle of April, which is only a couple of weeks before the end of April. I wish I could show you my calendar for May, hightouchmegastore. It has vast creamy (that's the color of the paper) expanses of no commitments. It's maybe the most beautiful thing I've seen in quite some time.

I am looking forward to sitting down daily with you, hightouchmegastore, for a tidy little chat about what I'm reading, or viewing, or thinking about. For little gusts of complaining. For exhilarations and enthusiasms. We've had a good time doing that in the years before this, haven't we? Having a glass of iced tea or three and rambling on about nothing? I am looking forward to that. To doing it again and again.

sincerely,

lisa b

Is it May yet?

It kind of feels like it, and I am in the process of checking out entirely of the current moment, except to notice the crocuses, sunshine, light, and also the trees leafing out.

I bought some fabric about an eon ago because I have another life, a secret life, possibly a life that only exists in my brain, where I sew. Why? I don't know. But this week, I sewed three skirts. By hand. With a needle and thread. Why? I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do.

Also, I bought a sack full of orange dye because I need orange pants. Orange-orange, not salmon or peach or coral. So look out for orange pants, coming to a theater near you.

At the eleventh hour, I compose a few e-mails.

TO: One of my favorite students

FROM: your professor

DATE: The day grades are due, @ the 11th hour

RE: I have a question

Remember last week, when I told you how strong your work was, and what a fine job I thought you had done this semester? And we both got tears in our eyes?

In light of this memory, I feel I must ask you: where is your final exam?

_________

TO: One of my favorite students

FROM: your professor

DATE: the day grades are due, @ the 11th hour

RE: I have a question

Remember how we met two times during the semester, the last time in late November? And how, at that time, I read a bunch of your work and gave you feedback, preparatory to you revising and submitting your final portfolio? And I praised that work?

In light of this memory, I feel I have to ask you: where is that portfolio?

My agenda.

1. Grade.

2. Lunch with birthday boy grandson.

3. Consult with 3 students.

4. Grade.

5. Scavenge dinner.

6. Grade.

7. The Office.

8. 30 Rock.

9. Walk the dog.

10. Grade.

TAGS: tedious

I'm in no mood.

Here's what I should do before I go to bed:

1. find that one list I wrote to myself on Friday about all the things I need to do. The one that has things that aren't just right in my face--the slightly further reaching things. The ones that I'll wake up remembering, in the middle of the night.

2. do the dishes.

3. have a reckoning with myself about my life.

4. finish the never-ending responding. The responding!

5. pat my pockets for all the things I'm forgetting.

6. start my fitness plan.

7. write a poem.

8. strip the wallpaper in my bedroom.

9. read Proust, leftover Proust, from that one time I read about 50 pages for my book group. Also, and on this same topic, The Tale of Genji.

10. cry a little.

11. draft a position paper on a compensation issue for the faculty at my college.

12. try not to forget any of the times I said I would talk to, chat with, or meet with a student in the next couple of days.

13. I'm pretty sure there's something else I'm forgetting.

What I am going to do instead is read my French detective novel and maybe do a crossword puzzle. And probably cry a little.

Equation.

Eighteen conferences completed

plus

Twenty-eight more to go

(minus

where did the rest of the students go?)

multiplied by a factor of

sore wrists, elbow, and neck

to the power of not enough sleep

equals four Ibuprofen and my head hits the pillow.