Today, I'm reeling from the chaos of the weekend. One of the side-effects of adjuncting is that I have to make time for myself to work. Or, rather, I have to scehdule myself non-negotiable times to work which then bleed into every aspect of my life when I'm not working my 40-hour job. I actually rather like sponteneity. But now, it seems, in order for me to feel like I've done what I need to do for the day... or evening... or weekend... I need to stick (at least partially) to my schedule. And I hate it. Becuase when I don't get off on the right foot, I feel utterly dissatisfied. Enter the weekend.
I have no idea what Friday looked like. I can't remember that far back. I think there were fish sticks involved. Ah yes--Friday. The day I did not leave the office for lunch, making me feel like I didn't accomplish a thing all day. A good start. Last week was pretty busy at work-work, and I have everything to grade, from the last thing we covered before the first exam (Chaucer) to the exam itself, which I am grading question by question instead of exam by exam. I have realized in so doing that my exam was too long--for me, not for them--and that I need some objevtive questions: nice, self-grading, multiple choice. After 4 or so grading sessions, I have finally whittled them down to 6 test questions left.
On Saturday, my daugther usually has archery practice. This Saturday, she did not. So everyone slept in. The problem is that I have office hours at 10 A.M.--this is my "good start" to the weekend. I guess I should have seen it coming. I suppose I should have said explicitly--WAKE ME UP. But I didn't. So they let me sleep. It was a little bit gloomy and sort of cold, so I slept. I woke at 10:42, realizing that I was well past the start of office hours--so why start now? I went to the living room, was promptly pestered about the impending birthday party for a friend at 3 P.M., and went to bathe and get dressed. We ate bagels and had coffee and then went to run errands, including the purchase of the party present. Well, the errands were frustrating. In one case, there was a startling encounter with a rude and crass person who made gestures that no one over the age of 15 should really make toward anyone, much less a harmless car full of strangers including two young children. So... lovely. By the time we went home, it was party time. I did not go. Rather, I stayed with the other two children and contemplated backing up my hard drive so that I could buy more RAM--which would make actually working on my 2011 MacBook Pro a possibility. Failing to find the cords for the extrenal hard drive, I went to Best Buy and purchased a 64GB flash drive and the 8GB memory sticks for my computer. Then I went back in Best Buy to get the sale price I had been promised hours earlier. By the time I got home again, the birthday party attendees had returned. My files finished transferring to the flash drive. Begin part two of Saturday.
My husband occupies a visible position in an international scholarly initiative. He is the face of his project, you might say. And as I type, he is on his way to Mexico, all of which causes its own fits of angst. But I am very proud of him, and the reputation he has gained, and because I wanted him to look the part, and because we finally sort of have the money for him to look the part (not that I'm not having retroactive hives a bit because of spending it), I suggested suit shopping. And that took a couple of hours, but yeilded great results. After that foray, we bought our third non-homecooked meal of the DAY (I hate that) and headed home, where the starving (well, not quite) children were. We ate, I might have done something or other with a batch of clothes, and then the memory instillation happened. It was wonderful. Still is. No problems. Twice the RAM. No more minute delay starting Microsoft Word. I barely even noticed iPhoto trying to import photos from my phone. A new era has begun. And yet, you might notice that I still have not, at this point, done any actual work for my class. This is what happens when I get off to the wrong start on Saturday. And... frustration ensues.
So of course, I had to do work. I had to. And by this time, it was night. Before, during, and after the girls went to bed, I worked on the class. There was no prep for the religious ed--but that's a whole different matter. And the result was that I was keyed up and didn't sleep well, which starts a whole cycle.
Sunday was cold and wet; religious ed. Mass. Both were fine, which is great. An uneventful Sunday is a good Sunday. We went to two different locations of our favorite chinese restaurant, and had some editorial comments by the staff on our seating choice (a booth) and our order (that's a lotta food--umm, yes). Went home, and I'm not sure what else I did besides work on the class--grading, activities, grading, emailing a student who wanted more generic help on everything. Oh yes! I helped coordinate dress clothes options for my husband who was packing. I stopped working at midnight or so, and could do nothing else--I mean, I could have, but it was time for bed, as we would have to get up early to coordinate shuttles to catch flights and children to school and whatnot. But having only one parent in the morning is hard. Besides that on Sunday I started looking around and the chaos and realizing that with only one parent in the house, that chaos was MY chaos--and mine alone. I think I just got moodier until bed. And working up until bed is bad for me.
So now my week starts. And it is a hectic week--one 2-day (6 hr) class to teach on Outlook, a presentation to give in between, no helpmeet. And I feel like I did nothing during the weekend, because I didn't get off to the right start on Saturday. And I gave up trashy romance novels (a recent guilty pleasure) for Lent. So no escapism. *sigh* Oh, and I haven't written anything in over a week because I had the bright idea to revise the older novel instead of fleshing out the new. Feeling so unproductive and busy and behind and frustrated and resentful.
