In true Dawne fashion, I have been harbouring and acting upon the fully entrenched belief that classes start on Thursday.
They don't start Thursday.
They start tomorrow.
My first one is at 9.00 am.
I guess I *should* be thankful they didn't start today.
The worst thing about all this: I had to hear it from Burton.
In the George Martin cafeteria.
And if you know Burton, you know that I'll have to live with this for the rest of my natural life.
He's like a dog with a bone.
He won't let go.
Ever.
So, I have spent the rest of the day updating my syllabi for the courses I taught last year.
And finished the one for the class I haven't taught for 4 years.
How come these things always happen to me??????????
That's a rhetorical question. I am NOT looking for an answer.
This incident of "failing memory" is easy to explain:
Hurricane Meredyth.
She blew in, erased August, and I woke up September 1st, and wondered what the hell happened, and where was I supposed to start??????
And classes start tomorrow.
9 am.
Not to mention my 2.30-5.20 seminar class.
The one I haven't taught in 4 years.
I so want to go back to bed right now.
Of course, this would also be the day that I agreed to a let's-have-the-kids-friends-over-for-dinner-this-evening-to-close-the-summer-and-welcome-the-fall-because-CLASSES-DON'T-START-UNTIL-THURSDAY-SO-A-DINNER-FOR-10-WON'T-BE-A-PROBLEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I want a drink, lots of them, something fruity and pineappley, like a pina colada.
Lots of them.
And then I so want to go back to bed.
Title Lyric: Escape by Rupert Holmes
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