Sunday, March 21, 2004
A Quiet Weekend
We had a relatively quiet weekend. Needed it. For the past six weeks, we've spent every free second in the real estate trenches, instead of catching up on sleep or dealing with the basic maintenance of our apartment or having fun trips around the city. We needed this weekend to chill.
But before chilling could occur, we had to do the basic maintenance operations of the apartment. We've really let things go to pot lately. Greasy dust on the microwave. Foot prints in the tub. The only food in the fridge was Mr. Spongy Potato and his buddy, Ms. Furry Onion. Some cleaning occurred; not quite enough.
Then the piles on the desk needed attention. On Saturday, we bought some organizational systems and photo albums from Target. That section of the office is now much more tidy. I have admired my work several times today.
I finished keying in my handwritten notes on my lecture notes. I taught a graduate class at a major university for two semesters last year. Without an adequate textbook to work from, I put together an entire class from scratch on the politics of education. Now that I've neatened everything up, my lecture notes are 120 pages long -- a small book. Damn, I put too much work into that class. My accountant was appalled by how little I was paid last year. He scorned my W2s. I scorn them, too.
Actually, thinking about it, very little chilling happened. I read the Jeffrey Toobin article on Martha in the New Yorker while the kids watched the Wiggles this morning, but that was it. OK, time to knock off the Sunday evening journal blog entry and get to this chilling business.
We had a relatively quiet weekend. Needed it. For the past six weeks, we've spent every free second in the real estate trenches, instead of catching up on sleep or dealing with the basic maintenance of our apartment or having fun trips around the city. We needed this weekend to chill.
But before chilling could occur, we had to do the basic maintenance operations of the apartment. We've really let things go to pot lately. Greasy dust on the microwave. Foot prints in the tub. The only food in the fridge was Mr. Spongy Potato and his buddy, Ms. Furry Onion. Some cleaning occurred; not quite enough.
Then the piles on the desk needed attention. On Saturday, we bought some organizational systems and photo albums from Target. That section of the office is now much more tidy. I have admired my work several times today.
I finished keying in my handwritten notes on my lecture notes. I taught a graduate class at a major university for two semesters last year. Without an adequate textbook to work from, I put together an entire class from scratch on the politics of education. Now that I've neatened everything up, my lecture notes are 120 pages long -- a small book. Damn, I put too much work into that class. My accountant was appalled by how little I was paid last year. He scorned my W2s. I scorn them, too.
Actually, thinking about it, very little chilling happened. I read the Jeffrey Toobin article on Martha in the New Yorker while the kids watched the Wiggles this morning, but that was it. OK, time to knock off the Sunday evening journal blog entry and get to this chilling business.
