(and you’re gonna be sorry. Hey na, hey na….)
It’s the sunny afternoon of a rainy morning and I just can’t keep my glee to myself. Not glee over anything specific, and with the death toll and aftermath of hurricane Katrina, not to mention the attendant blame-throwing and politicking, the glee has somber, ashy overtones. But still. I’m reasonably healthy and healthily reasonable, employed and loving it, halfway done with a crochet vest, and I watched the entire first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, including 2 episodes I hadn’t seen before, over the long weekend. Not bad for a middle-aged woman on a new career track in NW Iowa.
And how did I get 1/2 of a vest crocheted and 12 episodes of Buffy viewed, you ask? (Go ahead, ask. Makes me feel important.) Why, rather than do the many useful things I had planned for the 3-day weekend, like housecleaning, ironing, washing and waxing the car, depoopifying the bird cage, clothes-for-teaching shopping, and learning conversational Croatian, I sat on my ass and ate Rolos and crocheted and watched Buffy. For two and half days, the other 1/2 day being given over to shopping because I really, really needed the teaching clothes and, having bought them, I could forgo the ironing. And if I wasn’t going to iron, then I didn’t need to vacuum up the clingy cat hair that would otherwise static-jump onto my ironed garments. And if I’m not going to vacuum up cat hair, then why show housepet preference and clean the birdcage? See how logical laziness shaped my weekend? It’s amazing, really, that I didn’t haul the TV and refrigerator upstairs and right into the bathroom.
A colleague suggested that the fall semester should not begin until the Tuesday after Labor Day, arguing the silliness of having a three-day weekend after only a week of classes. I disagree. Would I have appreciated the extra week off, treasured it as only excessive hours of kitchy vampires and chocolate-covered caramel should be treasured? NO. I’d have spent it madly writing syllabi and course calendars because the last week or two of vacation are meant to be drudgeful days of ant work after the gloriously grasshoppery summer. But to start work and then get an almost immediate and completely undeserved break? Bliss, and the inner grasshopper knows exactly how to enjoy it.