Such a blue funk fell over me a few days ago that I had to do something about it before I was helpless, so I spent much of the weekend out of doors in the sun, walking twice each day of the weekend, and working in the yard for most of Sunday afternoon. This wasn't the truly debilitating depression that some folks face; it was more nearly a deep lethargy, a profound sloth and indolence manifested in procrastination, a mental miasma of the type that makes reaching all the way over there to click that mouse seem like such a burdensome chore and that causes me to postpone minor but bothersome tasks until after the next sleep, when I will have the strength and wit to create new rationalizations for postponing those tasks yet again.

The funk might have been a short-term adjustment to the shortened hours of daylight. I refuse to allow the possibilty that it was brought on by the home team's probable elimination from consideration for a January trip to the Orange Bowl. The symptoms preceded the team's loss, after all. My outlook was undoubtedly influenced by some particularly dreary student writing which I have probably modeled in these paragraphs, but as usual, I place the majority of the fault on the reduced hours of daylight, so as far as I'm concerned, the fault lies in my star. Funk creeps in on little sloth feet. Whatever.

The shadow of the funk obscured an error on my work calendar that should have been obvious to me. I went to work Monday morning expecting to fire up three new classes for the last cycle of our academic year. I felt excited and invigorated, sure that the weekend exercise and sunshine had dissolved the funk.

I paced myself in the morning because I anticipated an exhausting but rewarding afternoon in the two other classes that I thought were to begin that day. When I passed through the office in the morning, I retrieved the rosters for one class that started Monday morning, and for two that would begin on Tuesday. I noted that the two rosters for the Monday afternoon classes weren't yet ready, but I didn't consider that to be unusual because folks often enroll at the last minute; I did, however, expect that the rosters would be available when I returned to the office at noon.

At noon, an hour before the first of the classes was to begin, the rosters remained unavailable, and the folks who produced the rosters were also unavailable, a very unusual occurrence for a first day of new classes. I didn't huff and puff, but I was a bit peeved because I was eager to get started.

I asked another teacher adrift in the office if he had received copies of his class rosters for the new classes, and he replied that it was a bit early to expect rosters for a series of classes that didn't start for two weeks.

Oh, yeah, I guess so.

So, with my afternoons free for another two weeks, I came home and took a nap.

Maybe I'm just craving some structure that I'm unwilling to generate for myself.

Another cup of coffee?

Yeah, I should probably get something done too.

Reading:
Student work, still.

Weathering:
Sweat shirt weather.

Watching:
Saturday afternoon, Oklahoma-KSU, 41-31. The team's best hope for a #3 ranking and a bid to one of the four big-money bowls depends on their winning out, including a win over Nebraska, and then only if Nebraska maintains the #1 rating until then by beating Oklahoma.

Sunday evening, Ed. A cross, I think, between Thirtysomething and Northern Exposure � but not as edgy or ironic as either of them � I enjoy it but I'm unsure how much time I'd commit to it.