evening: first day of class

How odd that I’m already missing the rhythm of my right hand on the number keypad, tapping in my student ID to get to a cozy imaginary room with friends for my last semester of non-residential coursework.  I think I’ll sit back and indulge in my misery for a while–it’s probably the last chance to sit back and indulge in anything until May!  Then again, instead of misery, maybe I’ll enjoy the fireplace and try to remember where I stashed holiday candy to keep it away from kids.  Or maybe I’ll lean over and look in my briefcase just to enjoy that its files and folders are empty—syllabi distributed, nothing to collect.  I could also order plane tickets I’ll need in March, since prices probably won’t drop again before then.  Oh, or maybe I can pet the cat until we both get snapped by electricity in his fur.  I can stare out the front window and try to identify any clear moment when the gray sky gets darker toward evening.  I can stare out the back window and think about whether or not to plant corn next summer without feeling the slightest inclination to do anything about it.  I can rearrange the doo-dads on my desk or the pencil cups full of pens, pencils, paintbrushes, X-Acto knives, bookmarks, and nail files.  In this last chance to sit back and indulge, I could write a letter, copy out a poem, draw a caricature of James Joyce, chop cilantro, make a paper chain, play Perplexus, Google stone circles in the British Isles, or shake the fern to release the dead leaves.  Guess I’d better get started—the first day of class is only the rest of today.

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