This is an occupational hazard, especially when I'm in the throes (or, as my students would say, throws) of grading essays. If I don't set the timer to make myself get up every hour, I just sit in one place and grind away--and when I then absolutely must stand up (say for what Ed euphemistically calls a "bio break"), I can barely (or barley) move.
I'm also tired, daffy, and not quite able to make any sense. And I know I've got a fee-rocious day ahead of me tomorrow, what with all the conferences and the need to grade seven more essays for Tuesday's conferences. (And then eight for Wednesday. Fuck me.)
If I were smarter, I'd grade a few more tonight. If I were even smarter than that, I'd find a way to absolutely, barring nothing, force myself to grade each essay in no more than 30 minutes. Some I can do in less. Most take more. Some take a lot more. And most of that effort is wasted, as the students don't really pay attention to the comments.
But I've struggled with that problem my entire career, and it's unlikely I'll suddenly find a way to overcome my compulsive need to say more.
For now, however, I have errands to run and laundry to do. And I don't care that the clocks say it's "only" 6:30; my body knows good and well that it's 7:30--and so do my cats (one indoor, and a new outdoor addition to the family, a lost or abandoned sweetheart who I've been feeding and who therefore is now my cat). (And if any of my faithful readers live in the area and want a cat, please let me know. I would take her in myself, but introducing an adult female cat into a household that already has an adult female cat--especially one who tends to be the jealous type--is not a particularly spiffy idea.)
Gawd, if things continue to devolve this way, I'll be posting cat videos. Enough about cats. Enough period. More tomorrow.
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