I shouldn’t even have any. I should be completely lights-out. But here I sit, thinking about you. And about 40 other things…

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Now it’s 2:48, and I’ve graded some assignments. Maybe I’ll go lie down for a snooze.

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Welp, 4:20 and that didn’t work. So I went to grammarly.com for some nerdytainment. I feel another Schmenglish post coming on. Here’s a preview:

I predict that in 35 minutes (because it is now 4:25 a.m.), I will be ready for a long, long nap.

Oy.

Well, sometimes it does. But I can’t smell anything, so I wouldn’t know.

What’s the worst part about having a terrible cold? Not being able to see one’s beautiful grandsons. (And their parents, of course.) But I must tell you that my writing to you this morning was interrupted by the next-best thing: a phone call from Jake, saying “I hope you feel better, Grammie. I love you.”

Now how cool is that? It doesn’t make me feel any less sorry for myself, but I feel better about feeling sorry for myself.

Here’s what else bites: after my fiend Suzanne returned home to the Netherlands from Ohio and Michigan, she too is sick with a cold. COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT.

And the final kicker? It’s going to be 70 and sunny today. Typical November day in Ohio, right?

But you know what? The sun is shining, I enjoyed a great morning and lunch with Mavis yesterday, got a bunch of papers graded last night (and will continue throughout the day), I have a cinema meet-up with Tom Hanks this afternoon, and the plans for the holidays are officially underway with yesterday’s order of 7 lbs. of melting chocolate. Giddyup!

Oh, and the Browns will not lose today. Praise to Buddha.

Have a great day, fiends — enjoy the sunshine while ye may.

1. whoever stole my debit card information to buy video games in California, and
2. Chase Fraud (a hilarious moniker, yes?), for making me sit on hold for 22 minutes at 5:20 a.m. EST (when EVERYONE calls to report fraud, apparently) only to tell me that you’re all so incredibly busy hearing about the sieve that is your security system, no one can talk to me after all, and that you will call me later on this morning,

A) WHILE I AM AT SCHOOL AND UNABLE TO TALK TO YOU, AND B) WHILE THE THIEF CONTINUES TO USE MY MONEY.

Dear God: Please help me to not kill people today (over the phone, that is). Amen.

J’ever have one of those mornings?

Kent State.

Writing papers — as I did for several years, as some of you remember — was one thing. I was still able to keep up with RtB (and teaching and rehearsals), no problem. But grading papers…hmmm. Why is that making it so much harder?

I have absolutely no right to complain, mind. I have two jobs, while others have none at all. Sitting here in my comfy chair, whining — not cool, so I won’t do it. I still have to wonder, however: why is it so difficult keeping up now, as opposed to then?

As always, I covet your articulate and compendious thoughts. Yes, I am asking for free counseling. I could ask the Thriller, but he would (conveniently) say, “Nope. Can’t counsel your own family.” Or, he would just rapid-fire off a list of my possible personality disorders and call me diagnosed.

Oy.

So, what’s up with this anyway? Discuss. I will check in here again at 10, 2 and 4. Just like Dr. Pepper. (And you will really show your age if you get that reference.)

Happy Thurgsday, luvs — almost the weekend!

You mean…I have to go back to my regular routine? I’m “back at it?” Life has returned to somewhat normal?

Well THAT’S no fun.

Actually, it is. More time for grading papers, grandchildren, and getting ready for the holidays! But I still hate Mondays. I mean, really hate ’em.

Other side of the coin: at least I woke up to the Monday I hate. And at least I woke up to the Monday I hate, and I get to go to a job I love. Or a job at all. Y’ know?

Here I go, bein’ all thankful & such for a wonderful family and awesome fiends (one of whom jets back to Amsterdam tomorrow).

La vie est bonne.