Put me in a room, distraction less

November 7, 2011


Custer's Last Stand took place yesterday.

My innards engaging in a last ditch effort battle for control before the inevitable end of the cycle rendered them dormant for another 28 days.

But they fought hard.

Hard enough to ensure that I spent most of the day in a Pamprin induced haze, complete with heating pad on high and pillows comfortably stacked behind me.

Frankie at my feet.

Jasper by my side.

Goblet on the Goblet box, which is now buckling under the weight of her always increasing girth.

Tikka on the floor at my side of the bed.

Laying there, wondering what I ever did to deserve such a painful punishment.

Oh wait, I know.

I'm female.

Silly me.









In spite of the agony, I did manage some marking of papers before things got so bad that I couldn't sit up any more.

I set up a lovely system: mark a paper, continue the process of making dinner.

Pot roast in the slow cooker, potatoes, beets, broccoli and squash.

All put together in a rhythm dictated by how long it took me to read through papers where people thing commas are the correct means of ending a sentence and spelling is apparently optional.

Meaning dinner took a long time to prepare.

Good thing I started early.

As in 11.00 am.

Just after driving Em to work.

And I had company.

Stephen had been procrastinating with his own marking, finding every conceivable, and even some inconceivable means of avoiding marking at all costs.

Most professors despise marking.

But they do it because they have to.

Stephen despises it and waits until he is forced, by a guilty conscience or by me, to sit himself down and get things done.

He did.

At the kitchen table.

Him and me and some cats made four.

Because marking is only enhanced when you have a cat laying on your papers, another sunning himself by stretching across the table and essentially shoving you off the table as the sunbeams lengthen.

But the marking, well, his marking, was finished.

And now one of his classes, I don't know which one, will be getting their midterms back today.

Lucky them.









Saturday afternoon, after the Faculty Fair, the Empire Theater staff meeting and the spontaneous cleaning of the office, I picked up Em, returned home for some lunch and then headed back to the theater to see a movie with Em.

Tower Heist.

An entertaining heist film.

Old school Eddie Murphy. . .like Beverly Hills Cop. . .the first one.

Alan Alda's character loosely based on Bernie Madoff.

Even an homage to Steve McQueen.

A pleasant means of spending an afternoon where I should have been doing anything but sitting in a theater.

Saw Mum in the evening.

She's looking a bit better, but even three weeks after falling, her face is still black and blue around her eye, green and yellow across the bridge of her nose and around her cheeks.

She's now saying the vision in her left eye is blurry.

I knew there was going to be residual effects.

Hence why I think she needed an Xray.

Seems I am going to have to push harder as an advocate for my mum.

Boo-yah!

And many thanks to my cousin Sara for sorting out the face cream conundrum.

Some things are just harder to handle than they appear.



Title Lyric: Procrastination by Amy Winehouse