I forget it every year, apparently, but it happens every year: in the two weeks following the Pig Pickin', everything catches up with me and it is like I'm buried for several days under an avalanche of paper. Other things begin to slide as I begin to cut corners to keep up with the basics. I usually spend the latter four to five weeks of the semester just shoveling.
This explains why the yard and the exercising and the diet, etc., are all utterly neglected in November.
I also find that the way I do my job creates a cumulative weariness that really takes a toll when the time change hits. I feel it in the gut, and I begin to get a bit impatient with, um, other people.
Number One Son had a sleepover over the weekend, and apparently really enjoyed himself. The report is that he and his friend woke up at 3:00 am ready to play. They were dismayed to find that the parent didn't agree.
All of the children have been utterly consumed in their Lego building recently. There is an 8-foot table in our front room covered end to end. Have there been some screechy disagreements? Unfortunately, yes. We have discovered that The Mutt really dislikes it when I begin to speak loudly. She generally goes and finds The Runner. On Sunday morning, when the s*** really hit the fan, she not only found The Runner (in the kitchen), but wedged herself between The Runner's legs and the cabinets.
An older colleague was speaking with me about a demographic issue that she read about--that the 85+ population of this country will outnumber the 5 and under population by 2040. The most amazing part of the conversation was that when I remarked that this is exactly why all the entitlements are dead--they cannot possibly keep up with the population--her response was essentially a shrug. At least she's getting hers (and mine. And her grandkids').
I find myself wearied by the incessantly self-involved among my friends and acquaintances. This is the most unpleasant of the side effects of Facebookification.
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