November 07, 2009
busy like a zom-bee

Still incredibly busy, although on Tuesday, when midterm reports go in, I should be able to breathe a little easier. Tonight I gave up Friendly Rich to spend the night marking Nineteen Eighty-Four essays; I appear to be breaking out in a rash of responsibility. I was in the process of packing Blake off to Camp Grandparents when it hit me: I could spend my time marking instead of having fun! So I did. It sucks but at least I won’t be as anxious as I’ve been.

Why all the anxiety? Throughout most of the fall season I’ve been struggling with a cold that lingered improbably long. This has put a serious dent in the amount of marking I’ve been able to complete at work, as most of my “free” time is spent preparing for lessons I might otherwise have faked my way through were I feeling shipshape. Also, I can’t pretend that I haven’t been dragging myself to extracurricular activities in addition to the Amy Millan concert: I had two dance recitals in the week leading up to Hallowe’en, I lurched through my second Toronto Zombie Walk, I dressed up for work, and I sewed my best costume yet (about which more later). The arrival of Hallowe’en was a desperate relief: for the first time in days, I only had to worry about Blake’s costume and not my own. Sweet.

The crowning touch was that two days before Hallowe’en, Mason’s car died and I had to scramble to buy a new car. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were a nightmare, but now I have a car. It’s black, as Henry Ford would have wanted, and it smells good and it’s mine. It’s the first car I’ve owned since the ill-fated Mustang Scotty. I'm very proud.

This coming week will be all about insulating my bathroom so that my upstairs bathroom doesn't grow any more mold, sewing a purple outfit for my NEXT dance recital, and perhaps attending to the dishes more than once a week. I'm excited.

And, without further ado, Hallowe'en!

Hallowe'en 2009

I'm pretty sure that the weeks of stress leading up to this night were more than worth it.

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*