checking references

A couple of friends (Jackie and Mike) emailed me to let me know that my college had called them to set up an appointment for Monday in which they would ask them about me. I guess that's a good sign. I hope so. I assume that my dissertation director and the people I worked with at the previous college either have been or will be contacted. Dare I hope?

We talked to our younger son for a long time tonight. More listening than talk. He talks and rides over anything we try to say. He admitted being very tired, awake since 3 a.m. He sleeps so erratically and then when he's awake, he gets worked up by reading weird stuff on the internet.

I spent the whole day in my robe and pajamas. There seemed to be little reason to bathe and dress. The white world does not beckon me out into it the way it beckons my husband, who takes it as his bound duty to snowblow. While out today, he had a chance to talk with the neighbor across the street. Their ancient sweet old dog, Buddy, is dying. That's really sad.

Also while outside, my husband watched a young woman drive down the street, apparently not in control of her vehicle. She wound up on our side lawn, just where he had planned to start trying to clear out the frozen storm drains. (A home in another town just burned because the fire hydrants were frozen and they couldn't get water to the fire quickly enough. Lots of homes have flooded when the snow started to melt because the drains were clogged with ice and debris.) It took her a while to get back onto the street, but she must have finally made it because she wasn't there somewhat later. I'm just glad he wasn't working on that drain when she lost control. She was in an SUV.

What a world it is. In another part of the state, a girl died in a housefire because her parents (father and stepmother) had her chained to her bed. Sometimes I wish I'd never read Stephen Crane's "An Open Boat." Already I had doubts that there was any meaning to the chaos. That short story solidified my doubts into certainty. We are all mad as hatters, but only those who are similarly mad can relate to us and think us sane.

The weather forecaster just reminded us that we change to Daylight Savings Time on March 9. Proof of madness, clearly. Dr. S.