August 28, 2011 has arrived

Classes begin in the morning. Ten a.m. I have my first developmental writing class, with another to follow at noon. Then I have my much-anticipated Memoir Writing Class.

I am so not ready for summer to end. Sigh. I packed the car and drove up here this afternoon, with the refrain of "No! I'm not ready yet!" ringing in my ears.

It is what it is. And other cliches.

I'm in the apartment, not necessarily willingly. It took a while to get the internet working again. It's like it forgets me when I'm not here every day. So much for artificial intelligence.

I really wish I'd had another month of summer. At least. My spousal unit has told me that I can forgo summer teaching next year. He's finally gotten it through his head that I teach 4/4, while he teaches 3/3 (and makes twice as much). I teach 2 summer classes. He teaches one. Not fair, no way, no how. I won't do it again. I need my summers to regain my sense of being a human being. Teaching sucks out every last drab of humanity that I have left in me.

At least it is not hot tonight here in the studio apartment. However, toward week's end, the weather is predicted to become hot and humid. Grumble, grumble. He gets the air conditioning. I get a studio apartment that smells like strange paint and gas fumes, with no air conditioning. The maintenance guy painted the apartment next door's door, as well as part of the stair banister (why not all of it?), and it smells really icky.

And now my computer is doing odd things again in terms of cursor placement. Thank you, Sony, for giving me a computer with a mind of its own.

Anyway, as Ellen Degeneres would say.