9 more days until Christmas and if I can pull off getting all the marking done before Christmas, I may be inclined to agree in the Christmas miracle.
But given what I've been reading over the last couple of days, I don't feel hopeful.
I don't want to be marking after Christmas.
I've done it before.
There are other things I need to do to prepare for next term's classes.
And I just don't want to be marking after Christmas.
Tonight is my last exam.
This afternoon, the end of meetings until the New Year.
Meaning my first meeting is at 1.00, my second at 2.00 until whenever, and my exam begins at 7.00 and ends at 10.00 pm.
It is going to a long day.
Marking thrown into every spare space available.
I take marking with me wherever I go.
My purse large enough to hold several assignments.
The requisite pen.
Because in a day full of uncertainty and distractions, phone calls and texts-that-are-critical-and-must-be-answered-or-the-world-will-end, I must take full advantage of the minutes in between.
And I can get a lot accomplished in the little moments in between.
I operate on the assumption that if I can rid myself of distractions, the path will clear for uninterrupted marking.
Not at home, unfortunately.
The cats would never allow such activity to go undisturbed.
Leaving for a bathroom break results in returning to papers scattered hither and yon in a futile attempt to escape the poison of the pen; pens halfway across the room, as if they leaped off the table in protest against the harsh and cruel working conditions they have to endure; elastics that hold the bulging file folders in my futile attempt to remain organized, snapped in two, three, ten pieces.
If I'm lucky enough to know where they are at all.
Jasper has a thing for elastics.
Just last night, sitting at the kitchen table with Mr. I-Hate-Marking-Stephen, we were treated to the presence of Jasper.
Curious about what was going on.
And contemplating what would happen if he stuck his face in the large glass container.
Don't let the angelic visage distract you from the true nature and spirit of this small feline.
I know.
If I could only take my advice.
I see him and am overcome with the need to scoop his wriggling form into my arms and snuggle with him, kissing his little nose, feeling the vibrating purr at the base of his throat.
And after my blissful basking in the soft, warm fur that is Jasper, he heads to another part of the house to continue the reign of terror.
Last week's victim: the upstairs bathroom.
In particular, the bathroom cupboard.
Brimming with all sorts of gee gaws and doo dads, it is the perfect place for adventurous, willful kitties who are not burdened with such things as consciences.
Coming upon an open box of Mummy's tampons was just more than he could resist.
Causing quite a startle in Stephen when he next entered the bathroom to see the floor dotted with tightly wrapped tampons littering the floor.
Around the toilet.
In the hallway.
Downstairs on the boot tray.
One fell out of a shoe the other day.
We'll be finding those tampons until next year.
Which is still preferable to the activities of one 14 year old Belgian Shepherd with an elongated snout perfect for opening bathroom garbage cans and rooting for "treasure."
Title Lyric: Tampon Lollipops by Skinless
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