December 9: Arthur Slept, Heck of a Day, Ghost of Christmas Present

Arthur slept:  he was terribly tired.

Arthur Dent is exhausted after having been saved from the destruction of the Planet Earth, thrown into outer space by a Vogon, and rescued by the two-headed President of the Galaxy.  That would make anyone tired.

This is going to be a quick post to let all three of my faithful disciples know that I am still alive.  I'm not necessarily kicking, but I'm alive.  Like Arthur, I'm exhausted.

It has been a heck of a day.  I got up at 3 a.m. to do some grading before I headed into work.  Then a 20-mile drive through icy rain.  Nine hours of work at the medical office.  Two hours of giving a final exam to my students.  An hour of driving around in a snow storm to pick up prescriptions and push some people out of snowbanks.  Then a half hour drive home through more snow and wind.

When I see all of that in glowing black-and-white on my computer screen, I want to take a nap.  However, I have more grading and writing to do tonight.  And snow shoveling.  No rest for this English professor/poet/masochist until around next Wednesday.  Maybe Tuesday, if I'm lucky.

I'm beat right now.  Going a little stir crazy, as well.  I'm not even close to being done with schoolwork yet.  And I have to finish writing my Christmas essay, which I have been struggling with for many weeks.  And I have to order Christmas presents.  And I have to write my Christmas poem. 

December is moving way too fast for my taste.  That is not an original complaint.  I would wager money that everyone is feeling the holiday crunch about now.  No matter how much I prepare for it during the rest of the year (and I do that quite a bit--the 25th of every month during the year I do something for Christmas), I find myself in a panic about now.  Too much to do, too little time to do it in.

So, if you see me tomorrow, looking crazed and exhausted and a little unstable, hopefully you will understand.  I am in full end-of-semester-beginning-of-Yuletide insanity.

Now, Saint Marty must return to what he does best this time of year:  turning off the lights in his house, sitting in the dark, pretending that the Ghost of Christmas Present isn't knocking on his front door.