Yes, it was (predictably) a deluge; an avalanche of time-sensitive tasks teaming up to form the familiar system of shitstorms endemic to the season.
Like an ox being yoked back up to the grist mill, I dutifully arose this morning and left home in the dark, trudged my way through subway tubes and across boro lines, marched bravely up the stairs and took my place inside my solitary four-walled cell of learning. There I drifted through the day in a foggy, dream-like haze, relying mostly on muscle memory and the the ever-flowing current of routine to guide me through the motions of the day: pause here to shush noisy students in the hall... engage briefly in forcedly jocular elevator chit chat...shoot a steely glance in the direction of the commotion...raise an eyebrow at the hollow homework excuse...smile wanly at the faculty conference presenter's glib aphorisms... sigh at the ill-timed bathroom request. Words came slowly, answers to queries hovered just out of reach of the tip of my tongue.
It's after the kids have gone home that time clicks into warp speed and in a matter of seconds the afternoon has passed, yanking along with it an inquiry meeting, some hasty lesson plans, middle school applications, exchange of book club books, and the inescapable, aggravating chunk of time spent flitting around the room like a drunken bee in a busy garden, poking my nose into a dozen different tasks and completing maybe two or three at best. And the To Do List treadmill I was talking about kicks into overdrive.
My, what a different life it was, lo these 24 hours ago. From behind the rosy lenses of vacation-goggles, my resolve was great. Plans to go to the gym and cook nice dinners seemed reasonable undertakings, and achieving some sort of balance felt feasible and imminent.
Now I've turned up home at 8 at night, an hour and a half to go until it's time to pack it in and call it a day, not much left of me but tired feet, chapped lips and limp hair. I remember again how easy it is to tip the scales.
No comments:
Post a Comment