entirely too cold

It's 11 degrees at 1 p.m. The dewpoint is one degree. Our windchill is minus seven because we have wind gusts of 27 mph. This is not an environment fit for man or beast, and especially not for this delicate flower of Southern womanhood! (Snicker. I'm a delicate flower like dandelions are a delicate flower.) I'm just thankful that there is no reason to exit my reasonably warm home. The poor spouse, still suffering with that phlegmatic cough that comes up from his toenails, had to snowblow yesterday, but he appears to have suffered no harm from his exposure. I remain grateful for our electric mattress pad/bed warmer, but it would be nice if my office were a tiny bit warmer. I have no icycles hanging from my fingers, but certainly, it's a challenge to type accurately with chilled fingers.

So far my classes are off to a good start. I've met the daytime face-to-face class a couple of times already, and the night class met once. I've heard from almost everyone in the three online classes, and of course, I've gotten the usual excuses and complaints about the computer access. It seems to me that if you have only a dial-up modem that fails on you every time the weather changes, you would think twice about signing up for online classes. I've already had two students request that I email them at a different email address than the one they have listed with the college, and I have said no both times. (I'm getting better about saying no. It's easier with the online students because I don't have their big puppy-dog eyes looking at me.)

I've gotten the bug lately to renovate the master bathroom. So far it's a bug that I'll have to ignore. If I were to get the tenure-track position, maybe I could think about it, but the cost would be difficult to justify as long as I'm an adjunct. Houses are not selling here in Michigan, in its "one-state recession" (as Mitt Romney calls it), so I know that to recoup the cost when we sell is a pipe dream. In fact, it will be a pipe dream to sell the house at all, much less for what it's worth, what we've paid for it, or what we've done to improve it. It's beginning to bother me that crime seems to come closer and closer to our neighborhood. Last week, the 7-11 about a mile away was robbed at gunpoint. Today my husband commented that our neighbor's mailbox had been knocked over. The snowplow could have done it, but I heard an awful lot of traffic and voices about 2 a.m., so it's possible someone leaving a house party could have done it. I haven't seen those neighbors around much, but then, it's winter. The giant bundles of coats, hats, gloves, and scarves that venture out to shovel and snowblow are not recognizable as neighbors, just bodies who rush out to do a job and then rush back indoors as quickly as they can. So I don't know if they're home this weekend. It is a holiday long weekend, so they could be off visiting relatives or doing something somewhere warm.

We began our American Idol odyssey yesterday, watching the two days of auditions that we'd taped from earlier in the week. This way, we can fast-forward through the really bad singing. There were some good auditions, though, and it seems that the goof balls who show up just to get on tv are getting less certifiably nuts. The ones who amaze me are those who sing even more badly than I do--and I know I sing badly--yet who seem to be convinced that they are excellent singers and whose friends have apparently lied to them often enough about their ability that these fools go for the gold on the most-watched talent show in history. Vanity, thy name is... everybody and his brother.

The writers' strike continues, so tv is even more of a vast wasteland than usual. It's good for me to have less tv, though. I get more work done. Unless, that is, I spend too much time blogging. Guess I'd better get busy. I'm trying to use Esteemed and Beloved Spouse as a role model. He's a work-a-holic, so if I approach even half the work he does, I'll stay caught up with my classes. He's in his office next door, no doubt with some giant multi-colored spread sheet on his monitor, working away heartily. Tomorrow is his long day--three classes, back to back, until nearly 9 p.m. So he does have to get work done today. He'll stop in plenty of time for his golf nap, though. (And if not golf, then some other sport.) Till next time... Dr. S.