Sunday blues

My throat is scratchy. My head is foggy. I'm doing laundry, two weeks' worth. Groan.

The rain we've had for the last several days has washed a gajillion leaves from the trees, so Esteemed Spouse is heading outside to rake them. Normally he uses the John Deere to suck them up, but because they are so wet, he imagines that somehow he'll do better doing it by hand. All he's going to do is make himself sick. I think the leaves are beautiful and wish we didn't have this asinine idea that raking them up and putting them in plastic bags is the right way to handle the problem. These overly yard-conscious Dutch neighbors of ours are having an evil influence on my man!

I read in Ellie's blog yesterday that she got to become a coitus interuptus for two of her students. A teacher's work is never done.... I am grateful to be teaching on the college level. Teaching lower grades (9th-12th) is bound to be the cause of premature death for teachers.

For some reason, I am having the weirdest dreams lately. Last night I dreamed I was getting married again. I was "recycling" my original wedding gown, but I wanted a different veil, so as I was preparing to shop for something different, my beloved spouse in real life showed up. He was sad that I was remarrying. I should hope so. That man will NOT get rid of me in this lifetime, as I'm sure he knows. Maybe I just feel so split apart by living half the week in a different town, in a different house, sleeping in a different bed, that I feel as if my emotional self is also split. There is no other man, nor will there ever be, but it would be lovely if I didn't have to divide myself this way. I get home on Thursdays and get back in touch with my spouse and my cat and my SELF, just in time to have to pack up for the three full days and nights in Big Rapids.

The house next door, where Bonnie and Maurice used to live, is for sale. I wonder if I could talk my colleague KM into buying it. She and her spouse live in an apartment in Cascade. If they lived next to me, we could commute together.