Sunday, August 16, 2015

20150816.0731

It should be obvious that I was not as successful in my sleep-schedule adjustment this time as last time. I know I set an alarm; I remember it waking me up. But I also remember having a running battle with it via the snooze button, as I ought not to do. (Such battles have received comment before, with examples here, here, and here.) I am not sure if I feel myself better rested as a result or not; I am sure that I feel myself to be behind my intended schedule for the day--and for larger matters, as well. For I did not complete the freelance piece as I had meant to do; it is a quarter done, and all of that written in the morning quiet. After, though, I had to attend to Ms. 8, which is necessarily of higher priority than the freelancing, and after the Mrs. came home from work and Ms. 8 fell asleep for a nap, I found myself taking a nap, as well. Once I woke from that, it was time to run errands, and after that, it was time to eat--and then time for bed again against the thwarted hope of early waking. So I continue to set a bad example for my little girl, it seems.

Tomorrow will start the new semester at the institution where I teach, and I will be in the classroom at half past eight to greet the first of four sets of new students. A glance back at comments made at this time last year shows a number of concerns that I still feel. I am still caught by the common concern of conflicting obligations: a full-time job (teaching), a part-time job (freelancing), the equivalent of another (The Work), another equivalent of a part-time job (the job hunt, which costs money in addition to the time spent in drafting materials and filling out forms), domestic chores, presence and emotional support of the Mrs., and the care that needs to be afforded to Ms. 8--not that there is anything wrong with her, but toddlers demand much attention and much more affection and love. (I hope that the little one, when she is less little, might look at some of this and see that her father tries to make things right, and that she may well forgive him for acting as if under stress, since he damned well is.)

I try to negotiate the lot, and I know that I need to do more. The list above makes no mention of health, after all, of carrying out the exercise that I should be doing and have not been since coming to the wind-swept plains and Sherwood Cottage from The City and its many, many stairs, and its particular center of study for which I was insufficiently grateful while I attended it. I know the histories of my families; I know what has laid low many with whom I share blood and name, and I know that it waits for me--happily, since I am not armed against it anymore. But who has the time?

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