Let’s add tired college professors to Burns’s observation.
This morning, I set the alarm for 5:30 and got up after only two snooze alarms and an odd dream about crashing my car into the Sacramento River (is there a Sacramento River?) while eating Indian food off the dashboard. I needed to arise at such a dark and ominous time in order to get to school early and read and mark some rough drafts for one of my classes.
OF COURSE something happened to make sure I got out of the house no earlier than usual. As I was rushing out the door, I remembered to grab some knitting in case I had time to take a little break in the afternoon, what with getting to work so early and all. I reached up take a project off the top of my maple hutch, balancing myself with fingertips on the lower part of the hutch, and realized my fingers were wet at the same time a drop of water fell on my head.
Yup, my livingroom ceiling is leaking slightly (a few drops per minute) under my bathtub and has been for a day or so, I guess, based on the area of RUINED FINISH on my maple hutch. That hutch is 1) the only piece of real, solid, wood furniture I own and 2) belonged to my parents and so has a deal of sentimental value. Grrr.
So my extra hour of time earned so virtuously with an early wake-up went to call the landlord and the plumber and to wonder if I should move Zeke into another room or bring him to work with me (in case of ceiling dust and soldering fumes during the repairs). I finally decided to leave him as is since the leak is obviously so small, but only after he bit my finger and drew blood, picking up on my own distress and getting himself all riled up. AND I’ll go home to a hole in my ceiling AND some of my knitting projects may have gotten wet, but I didn’t have time to check ’cause I had to get to work.
I know, I know, things are tough all over. But I figure I deserve a little vent and a little chocolate, and perhaps a beer after work.