Here are the blogposts I started drafting in my head, then didn't end up writing for one reason or another:
Monday: Why is it that when I call in or go home sick, I instantly feel better, and then feel guilty because I'm not as sick as I could be? But instead of writing that post, I fell asleep for four hours and woke up almost migraine-free.
Tuesday: Senior Scholars make me crazy when they are unhappy with the way students read a text and crush them with statements like: "In English, there are no good readings. Only good re-readings." So why have us read a text you think we are not good readers for? ACK and GRR. Instead of writing this post, I went drinking at the local sports bar and then stayed up half the night watching movies, since, as y'all no doubt know, Blockbuster gets their new releases on Tuesdays.
Wednesday: I rocked the house on Wednesday. Not only did I help a number of cute boys with their homework, but between appointments I was working diligently forwarding my New Dissertation Plan (more on this soon). I'm not sure why I didn't write about this. I think I came home and watched all the extras on the DVD Stranger than Fiction.
Thursday: SNOW DAY! I woke up to my cell phone alarm (yes, like Harold Crick's watch) and realized that the power went out in the night. I was lying there listening to the deafening sound of all my neighbors oversleeping. How incredibly dependent we all are on electricity, I thought. Then I reported the outage to the power company and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the afternoon, I was antsy. Something about having it snow all night and being told that I should just stay in all day (especially the school relenting and having a snow day) makes me want to hop in my car and toodle around. I don't know why this is. A deeply contrary nature, I guess. Actually, workers at the local grocery store report an upsurge in business on snowy days, but not on rainy days. My North Dakota friend wouldn't drive that day. So instead I insisted on getting him the milk he said he needed (though he still wouldn't make me pancakes -- creep) and paying my rent and getting coffee drinks I didn't need. My love of clearing the snow off my car and driving 10 miles an hour down my totally underplowed street is all the weirder because I am originally from the kind of western big city where we call the twice-a-decade white stuff that comes from the sky snow instead of what is really is, which is frozen rain. You know. The kind of western city where we tell our co-workers in complete earnestness that for the weekend: "we're going up to the snow." For the first couple years I lived in Snowy Midwestern Graduate City, I wouldn't drive in the snow. Now I can't be stopped. It's all very odd. I didn't write that post because I finally planned a visit to my beleaguered and overworked SO in Obnoxiously Yuppie Sunny City and then I started reading Paradise Lost. Yes, Milton. Go figure. (It's action-packed! Who knew?)