stubble

This was the week of the 12-hour workday. I know there are people that spend that kind of time at work every week, but it's a new experience for me. And then on Saturday I put in an 8-5. Needless to say, I took an especially long nap today.

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I love those Sunday afternoon naps. Never took naps until I started taking Zoloft a few years ago--now, I can nap long and hard any day, given the chance.

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Yesterday's project was conducting interviews for Honors Program and University Scholars applicants. Actually, we did some work on Friday afternoon and then the interviews all day on Valentine's day. The main purpose of the exercise was to see how the students would respond to questions that challenged them in various ways. Well, we learned that. They were all smart, of course--but that's just the beginning. Some students really look unpromising, but they turn out to be thoughtful and articulate. Then there are those who look so impressive, but clam up and say hardly a word--which isn't necessarily a problem. You just never know.

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Some students make it easy. For instance: there was one young man, with incredible "preacher hair," who quickly made a jerk out of himself by a series of harsh and vain outbursts. By the second day, after he did it yet again in the interview session, we came to the conclusion that there's something actually wrong there--narcissism, or perhaps an anxiety issue.

I wanted to take him aside and say, "look, you need to give some thought to seeing somebody. . . because I'll tell you--if you come here and expect to succeed this way, you'll flame out of here in short order."

But you can't say that. He would scorn the advice anyway.

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Questions involving the "morning-after pill," evolution, and the definition of "morality" were the most productive. And most students didn't know how to even begin theorizing about the last item.

You may be surprised to note that I asked few questions. Well, maybe not all that surprised.

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Roofer Madness. Meanwhile, during a particularly windy day recently, we had some singles come loose. Well, it was supposed to rain this week, so I climbed up on the roof with the hammer, nails, glue, & mismatched replacement shingles, and did the best I could. Then came Wednesday, when the wind really started blowing, and big piles of shingles started peeling off the roof (not the ones I put down, thankyouverymuch!). So: time for the professionals.

On Friday, my wife is standing in the kitchen and watches a man walk across the back yard to disappear behind our shed. Well, he comes back soon enough, and she begins to hear all kinds of thumping around on the roof. Out she goes, noting an invoice stuck in the door. This confuses her, since she had not even been spoken to by the gentlemen from the roofing company from which she had requested an estimate. She finds them repairing the shingles that had been damaged. There was a good deal of discussion about whether or not she would be paying said invoice, since she had not given them the authority to do any actual work.

There will be no payment.

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Gonna try doing a couple of things differently this week, to see if I like the result a bit better than I did this past week.

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Also not give answers I think are wanted, but the answers that are true.