I say to Ed very very early this morning: I have to finish work on my lecture, then pay bills, tidy up, then we can stop by Menards so we can replace the incorrect parts we purchased, then we can stop by the farmette where I can super speedily apply a layer of varnish to the door, because I need to be in my office to go over my lectures and I have a number of student matters to attend to before noon. This evening, after classes, I can work on the “to do” list for the move. Did I miss anything?
Ed answers – hmmm. Sounds like my day.
The real chaos of the day is matched by the chaos at the condo. And the one in my head.
I try to stay on top of emails (toward the end of the semester, they are more or less constant), to loosen up a few more hours for students whose schedules are all over the place, on top of the demands of the day, but I feel like I did when my girls were very young – I am bouncing illogically between events as they present themselves, scrambling not to neglect one as I shift to taking care of the next one and the one after.
In the evening, I return to my condo and pass a sad looking bike. Dirty, with deflated tires. Sorry, you sweet, Reliable Red (oh, should that be your name?). I can’t fix you just yet. Maybe on the week-end.
At the farmhouse, Ed tells me that Andy has inspected my work on the doors. And? He says you should sand down the putty on the nails more.
Humph. I gave a five stroke massage to the putty. You can hardly see the spots. I point out that no one else from the team wanted to work on the doors – too time-consuming, boring and delicate. My verdict? They are done. No more diddling there.
The sky is incredible today: at once stormy and partly streaked with bands of blue. I can’t really enjoy it, but I do pause to look out in the early evening – the view from my office is so constant, yet so different each time.
And then I am home. Not dark yet. Let me go up to the condo rooftop. Not many days of good views left. Let me admire this once more. It’s pretty – so much sky! Even as it never quite produces the choke in my throat that a field might, with a farmer tilling, or a deer passing through, with shades of gentle green in spring and golden orange in fall... Still, I’ve quite loved this perch up on the roof. For the sunrise over the capitol and the tumultuous skies on early spring days.