. . . and then we adjust

Yeah — I’m cute when I’m all bright-eyed and innocent, hopeful, fueled by unlimited optimism and energy, not to mention good faith.  Well guess what, Pollyanna?  You FAIL in the meeting goals arena.

The simple truth is this:  While a normal teaching load of 15 credit hours is more than enough work to keep me occupied, my current load of 19.5 (7.5 of which are administrative) has my head spinning.  I cannot, at this point, not grade on weekends unless I want to sleep four hours a night.  And sleep-deprived Pollyanna is nobody’s friend.  I’m doing well–really well (maybe even deserving of self-praise), in fact–to do my part of keeping the house clean and to walk Abby every day.  Yes, I have been doing some reading, so that goal isn’t completely shot to hell. . . yet.

Quite honestly, this is an improvement over previous semesters, and I knew when I put that list together that it was an idealistic little list created in the go-big-or-go-home vein.  Still, the fact that in only week 2 of the semester, I’ve blown most of those goals to the point that I’m no longer even considering reaching for them is a little disappointing.  And that it all comes back to how much time I’m spending at/on/with work just plain stinks.

I do, though, have a plan and a purpose.  So this may indeed be madness, but. . . you know the rest.  I can see an (pretty distant) end, and the crazy workload is, for now, worth it.  The gourmet cooking skills and well-carved bod will have to wait.

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