grump grump grump

If you are allergic to grouchiness, don't read this. I just looked at our schedules, and my husband and I don't have the same spring break. His is a week before mine. So that means that we can't go anywhere together. His classes begin a week before mine and end nearly two weeks before mine end in May. About the time mine end for the semester, he'll be facing teaching his first summer session (unless he figures out a way not to teach this summer).

So if we go somewhere between this semester and next, we'll have to get back early enough for his meetings, pre-semester class planning, etc. The only place we've planned to go between semesters is to see relatives in Louisiana, which will cause me a mixture of happiness and despair. The weather might be good while we're down there ("good" meaning no rain), which will only make returning to Michigan even more miserable. If the weather is bad--and it can be very bad in winter, unless you happen to like chilly constant rainfall--then we won't feel as if we've had a break from the nasty winter slop at all, neither North nor South. If I could sing like Celine Dion, I'd break into a chest-pounding chorus of "My Heart Will Go On." Except I'd have to change the words a bit, to "My Heart Can't Go On."

The weather today is so wretchedly crappy that I feel my soul being sucked down a nasty scuzzy hairy bathtub drain. The dense fog has cast the outside world into a bad English drama starring Rex Harrison and Doris Day. (I've forgotten the name of the film.)

Actually, the right song for today is one my mother used to sing: "Make the world go away. Get it off of my shoulders." And speaking of Mama, today I feel like one of her best sayings: "I've been shot at and missed, and shit at and hit."

Okay, don't say you weren't warned. Now that I've shared my grumpy mood with cyberspace, I can't say I feel any better. But at least typing has warmed up my frozen stiff hands. That's better than nothing, I guess. Dr. S.