Question from my son last night:
“What are your plans on Monday? Besides being stressed.”
He knows me very well. I leave the country to teach a summer abroad course in Oxford on Tuesday, so I will definitely be stressed. (I also have three healthcare appointments that day.)
But I want to take a moment to recognize what’s behind me before I look ahead.
Last summer, I taught four classes. And then I taught 16 classes during this school year (three were just two-units, but still).
I did six conferences.
I just finished one set of proofs on a book, and I’m about to start on another.
And this school year was hard. The fires threw ash into my already-weak lungs and chaos into my life.
I managed to get my purse stolen in Chicago during the first week of a calendar year I was hoping would be better. And then I herniated another disc in my back in February, resulting in a bunch of days when I couldn’t walk and quite a few medical procedures.
So I’m trying to be proud of myself for surviving it all.
That’s why, when I turned in the last of my grades yesterday, I decided to open my nicest bottle of wine.
