My days have fallen into a routine revolving around four activities: eating, sleeping, teaching, marking.
If I am not sitting at the table or my office desk providing sustenance to power my being, or in my bed catching the zzzzzzz's required to keep me standing upright during the day, or standing in front of my students sharing with them my knowledge of such things as how to conduct an interview or how to engage in focused coding, then I am squarely immersed in the sky high pile of papers that has literally taken over each second of my life not consumed by the other three activities.
Even sick, I found myself on the weekend propped up with all the pillow, on my side of the bed, papers from two different classes beside me, reading and correcting and grading and reading and correcting and grading and reading and correcting and grading until I feel asleep sitting up.
But at least I was not alone.
Along with the papers, I was accompanied by three canine compadres on the bed with me, as well as one on the floor and the other on the Goblet box.
The three on the bed made me the most nervous, as at any moment their uneasy truce would crumble with the smallest slight or an almost invisible twitch.
Of course the alliance didn't last long, as Jasper concluded that there was something more interesting at the window.
As you can see Goblet wasn't amused.
But then again, she never is.
So in addition to marking I was also feeling like a well pillowed prisoner of war.
And make no mistake, there is a territorial war still waging in our happy home.
Who "owns" what space?
What can be considered public spaces?
Mostly, I just want to know when the war will end so the territorial marking can end.
It's upsetting the equilibrium of our happy home.
And turning Frankie into an 80 pound whiny baby.
Because there aren't enough whiny people around here, right?
Title Lyric: Truce by The Dresden Dolls
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