September 8, 2011
First day of classes today.
Students looking younger and younger while you feel older and older, less in touch with their world.
Less in touch with your own world, to be completely honest.
Awake at 5.00 am.
Even now, teaching for twelve years, the first day of classes causes me some nervousness.
First day jitters.
Giving up on the idea of falling back to sleep for another hour, I laid there contemplating what the day was going to be like.
Until Frankie had enough of my being awake and immobile, and "encouraged" me to get up.
I don't know why he was in such a hurry.
To lead me to the pile of cold dog poo he deposited on the front door carpet, perhaps?
Yesterday was not a happy day for my Frankie Doodle.
One, he had gotten into something that didn't agree with him.
He has learned how to open the kitchen garbage can with his snout.
Causing all sorts of opportunities for misadventures and malfeasance.
Soon, we'll have to invest in garbage boxes, complete with lock or coded entry.
His tummy troubles were exacerbated by the knowledge that his mummy was leaving for work.
Not the casual let's-get-up-and-take-our-time-as-we-leisurely-contemplate-what-we'll-do-today morning he has come to expect.
But the Em-has-to-get-to-school-and-I-need-to-get-to-work-asap morning.
He doesn't like change, our Frankie.
Especially change that gets his mummy out of bed while it's still dark, has her gone for the entire day, and if he's really lucky, she comes home long enough for supper only to go back to work again.
I knew he wasn't happy when I left yesterday morning.
He was following me all over the house, right behind me.
I lost count of the number of times I stepped on him.
Or came close to it.
And when it came time for me to actually walk out the door, he had such a sad, pitiful, oh-mummy-please-don't-go look on his face that I thought about how I could arrange my day to remain home with him just one more day, avoiding the unavoidable, prolonging the moment of separation.
Within seconds that option was discarded as I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to rearrange anything.
So with yet another kiss on his head, another rubbing of his face, another putting his little face in my hands and telling him I would return, I left.
And in response to this, coupled with his upset tummy, there were two incidents of pooping in unsanctioned areas.
Both times in the kitchen.
And then again this morning.
Stephen was so shocked that he left a pile of steaming poop on the kitchen floor that he actually called me at my office.
You're not going to believe what Frank did.
I would believe just about anything Frankie did.
He pooped on the kitchen floor. I had to clean it up, retching the entire time.
Made me glad I was in the office, thank you very much.
After we hang up, the person I was meeting with said,
Did he call just to tell you the dog pooped in the kitchen?
Yes, I replied.
He did.
Here's hoping Frankie and Stephen have a better, no-poop-in-the-kitchen-day.
Yesterday I left home at 8.20 am.
Returning for 40 minutes at supper time, around 5.15 pm long enough to scarf down roast turkey, carrots and wild rice prepared by Pookie and Stephen.
And then back to work until I dragged myself through the front door at 9.00 pm.
Welcome back to work, Dawne Ardith.
I had ONE meeting yesterday.
ONE.
But for some reason, someone had replaced my office door with a revolving door and no one had the foresight or decency to tell me.
I did take my time to get to my office, stopping at Starbucks for a couple of hours of organizing my term over a cup of coffee and a celebratory blueberry scone.
More avoiding the inevitable, but I'll call it what I like.
I had no intentions of going to Starbucks, however, a quick scan of the before-the-first-day parking lot by my building indicated there was nary a parking space to be found and not feeling like playing the parking game before the term even started, I just drove off into the sun rise looking for a quiet table and some good coffee.
No parking and the term hasn't started.
Not a good omen.
Around 11.00 am the invisible cord connecting my conscience to my office started tugging rather hard, not pleased with being ignored, so I packed my things and went to my office.
For my ONE meeting.
I wasn't on campus for five minutes before there was a knock at my door.
Colleague.
Hadn't seen her in a while so we were catching up on our summer adventures when Hurricane Meredyth blew into my office full of excitement over starting her own classes on Monday.
Moving forward, my girl.
Fingers crossed the excitement and commitment is maintained.
Colleague leaves.
Mer and her friend stay until I boot them out citing that I really did have to work.
Shortly afterwards, my one, scheduled meeting showed up.
How many phone calls did I get while she was there?
At least five.
All family related.
First day back and they're already suffering separation anxiety.
Hopefully none of them poop on the kitchen floor or front door carpet.
Meeting ends and I settle down for an afternoon of working.
Wanting to finish those syllabi.
But the tenor of the day was already set and the phone calls and door knocking just kept happening.
By the time Em arrived at 4.30, I knew I was going to have to return to the confines of my office and computer after supper.
Accepting and liking should never be confused.
And it isn't as if I'm invaluable.
Indispensable.
I'm not.
It was just one of those days where it would appear that I was.
The last visitor was my brother.
I was thrilled to see his six foot self filling the threshold of my office door.
And he came bearing gifts.
Birthday gifts.
A gorgeous necklace and matching earrings.
I so wish I had a working camera.
As soon as I do, I'll take pictures.
Because it's so beautiful I don't think I possess the vocabulary to describe it.
Classes at 10.00 am, 1.00 pm and 4.00 pm.
Long day indeed.
Little sleep last night, up early.
Long, long day.
Title Lyric: Tik Tok Kesha
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