Sunday, September 23, 2007

"Every Day I % Write The Book," Elvis Costello

So here we are, officially homeless for the week, ensconced in a hotel in the first neighborhood we lived here in Big City, while the construction on our apartment commences. It's nice to be back around these parts. It is not so nice to cart six suitcases filled with class clothes, regular clothes, shoes, dopp kits, computer and accessories, and all the damn books and files I'll need to work on my chapter, chapter revisions, job letter, and teaching philosophy this week. Seriously, the book suitcase is very upsetting to me, as it's a concrete representation of what I have to distill onto the page. Luckily, the book suitcase is also topped off with back copies of Entertainment Weekly.

Also, we have two bathrooms in the room, due to the architectural oddities of old hotels.

Cats went to the pet hotel, and I'm sure they're fine, but I was a crazy cat mom while dropping them off, giving extensive and detailed feeding instructions. I did, however, stop short of explaining how you have to sing songs to Maggie in which all the words are "Maggie," "beauty," "beautiful," and "pretty."

Now I have to watch some football, mark some writing assignments, and finish writing my syllabus for my UChaos class. I'm confident that I can complete the first of those tasks.

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