Getting it done: a letter.

Dear the middle of the night:

--or more precisely, 2:30 a.m., which I know precisely because I checked. I checked my cell phone when I awoke because my head was hot and maybe I felt my cold having a small insurgency in the skirmishes of the night. I guess that's what they are. I know I felt I was fighting something.

So one more DayQuil, a swig of water, a settling of covers, a small storm of thoughts. I thought: at least I can spend the morning at home. I thought, I only have one class, I can get it together for that. I thought, If I'm actually sick, why not stay home? And that last was the thought that I tied around my finger to remember in the morning, when I awoke again at seven. It was not exactly a reprise of the dark hours, but it was a variation on a theme: one more DayQuil, a swig of water, a storm of thoughts--and I was up.

Middle of the night, it was precisely there, in your 2:30 a.m., that I came to my senses. If I'm sick, why not stay home? I clung to this sensible thought as if I were in a fever and the thought were the promise of water. So I sent an e-mail to the class and to my chair, and settled in.

And even though I had awoken in you, the middle of the night, the 2:30 a.m. locus of my ill epiphany, I had a day that looked like an exemplary page from a Covey planner:

• graded a discussion.
• conversed via e-mail with students.
• brokered a tentative agreement in an e-mail with a colleague.
• narrated and captioned four short instructional videos.
• ate soup for lunch. (soup is always exemplary, in my opinion.)

Because of my sick, ergo stay home day, I believe I am on the mend, the middle of the night, though I may yet greet you a few hours hence. Even so, you shall not fell me.

be it so resolved,

htms

Like a veritable ton of bricks.

The new year just might have it in for me, at least a little bit. Hear me out:

• the Chevy, which college daughter has on an extended loan, so she can get herself to the train station or to her job &c., has--and here, I think it must be argued that these are indicative of the new year's attitude--numerous things wrong with it, including a fuel injector that, if it is not fixed, might, and I am quoting the mechanic here, "set your engine on fire." Ergo,
• college daughter cannot drive the Chevy. Hence,
• I am driving hither and yon, back and forth, to get her from here to there, from home to job to school and back again, with a stop home in the middle so she doesn't smell like a sandwich at school. And another thing:
• is or isn't the world coming to an end, with the apocalypse dancing on its grave? because it sure seems like that at my place of employ, what with the budget cuts and the lettings go of employees, and the seismic, volcanic rumblings I keep feeling/hearing. And, just for good measure,
• the air quality is so horrifying. I hate to take the Bruise for a walk. I feel terrible about the driving hither and yon (be the solution! but how will she get to her job?). And, in a related matter,
• I tried to find running son's high school diploma so he can apply to the Beijing University of Language and Culture (something like that), and I could not find it! Yet another referendum on the quality of my soul, which is disorganized, cluttered, rife with dust bunnies. And drives too much.

Fine, I will desist.

As usual, I am hoping for a routine to rescue me from all this. So I am praying to the Fixerly God of the Sacred Chevrolet that the car will soon be drivable. And I am taking every single thing out of my study this weekend. Every single thing. New Year, listen up: let the Sorting begin.

2009.

In the new year I plan to fret less, walk the dog lots, make some music, hear more live music, read for pleasure, write lots, and in general value what is wonderful about my life:  family, friends, a creative life.  Thanks to all of you who read this from time to time for being a part of it. Happy New Year to you all. 

Stuff that makes me glad.

1. making a splendid dinner out of stuff I have in my house
2. having good stuff in my house to make a splendid dinner (see how that works both ways?)
3. making and eating dinner with people I love
4. the way the fallen poplar and maple leaves make a glowing mosaic on my lawn (really, why rake? overrated.)

Today, after Bruiser and I walked in weather that exemplified what is best about November, I put on a cozy sweater and decided not to worry any more about the election. And I didn't worry. Much. I'll be up early to vote (that's as opposed to voting early).