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This morning I took the final for my Catullus class. Or, well, the second test, and since there were only two, I'm calling the one that comes at the end of the semester a final. I think I did quite well on the translation, poorly on the scansion, and pretty well on the short essay bits. Since 90% of the grade is likely to come from the translation, I'm pretty happy with that.
Despite coming home and feeling like it was time to fall over and not move for a few days, I've been reasonably responsible since. Unloaded and reloaded and ran the dishwasher, made dinner, did a little tidying, hosted people for writing, did a tiny amount of writing... Won some games of Hearthstone. I'm finding that game hits a sweet spot of being engaging enough that I keep coming back to it, but not so driving to Get That Next Thing that I start doing compulsively. Which is good. I prefer things that I can enjoy casually.
I pulled out some Greek textbooks to review, but haven't really looked at them yet. This will come as a shock to no one. Oh, and I got hotel and flight booked for Fourth Street, which is deeply pleasing. I expect to have a marvelous time this year, as I have the last few. (I had a marvelous time the first year, and that included at least two sessions of running to my room to sob quietly because of so many people and because of social anxiety. I now know to expect these things in convention-going, and manage them.) So, you know. I still have to get all the laundry put away before tomorrow, but...go me?
I am rambling. I have decided that's better than not updating at all. Lucky you!
The dog is grumbling at the door because I won't let her outside right now; she was a bit barky, and needs to give the neighbors a rest before she goes and flails in the direction of a squirrel again. I have made dinner, and now I've eaten dinner, and the house is very quiet (grumbling dog aside) because the roommate has gone to bed and the spouse isn't yet home.
I have things yet to do. (Laundry aside.) I need to talk to the classics advisor about how to get registered properly for Greek composition, which the prof offered to do for me as a conference course even if no one else signs up. I feel I may lean on his generosity overmuch; the only class I took this semester was a conference course on Catullus, that met in his office, as there were only three students. But he says he'd be delighted to have me take that class, and I'll take him at his word. I'm not sure how many more years he'll teach before retiring: I ought to take advantage of the classes he offers while I can still get them.
And I should call the plumbing people about the thing we really need to fix, and call the city about the plumbing thing we might need to fix, and call the roofing people about that, and so on and so forth. Houses! They take so much work! The gutters need dealing with, too. And the leaves. (And the heaps of polleny fronds.) And the bushes beside the driveway. At least I finally got the car dealt with.
Being an adult sometimes feels endless. There's this rotating cycle of chores, and finishing them doesn't mean being done; it means time for a breather before moving on to the lower priority chores, or dealing with ones that I did last time and are now due again.
But I like being an adult. I like this house and its kitchen, despite the cost and maintenance. I like cooking, despite the dishes. I like the dog, despite the barking. I am extremely fond of my spouse. And I have ever so many excellent books just waiting to be read.
It's a good life. Despite the dishes.
Despite coming home and feeling like it was time to fall over and not move for a few days, I've been reasonably responsible since. Unloaded and reloaded and ran the dishwasher, made dinner, did a little tidying, hosted people for writing, did a tiny amount of writing... Won some games of Hearthstone. I'm finding that game hits a sweet spot of being engaging enough that I keep coming back to it, but not so driving to Get That Next Thing that I start doing compulsively. Which is good. I prefer things that I can enjoy casually.
I pulled out some Greek textbooks to review, but haven't really looked at them yet. This will come as a shock to no one. Oh, and I got hotel and flight booked for Fourth Street, which is deeply pleasing. I expect to have a marvelous time this year, as I have the last few. (I had a marvelous time the first year, and that included at least two sessions of running to my room to sob quietly because of so many people and because of social anxiety. I now know to expect these things in convention-going, and manage them.) So, you know. I still have to get all the laundry put away before tomorrow, but...go me?
I am rambling. I have decided that's better than not updating at all. Lucky you!
The dog is grumbling at the door because I won't let her outside right now; she was a bit barky, and needs to give the neighbors a rest before she goes and flails in the direction of a squirrel again. I have made dinner, and now I've eaten dinner, and the house is very quiet (grumbling dog aside) because the roommate has gone to bed and the spouse isn't yet home.
I have things yet to do. (Laundry aside.) I need to talk to the classics advisor about how to get registered properly for Greek composition, which the prof offered to do for me as a conference course even if no one else signs up. I feel I may lean on his generosity overmuch; the only class I took this semester was a conference course on Catullus, that met in his office, as there were only three students. But he says he'd be delighted to have me take that class, and I'll take him at his word. I'm not sure how many more years he'll teach before retiring: I ought to take advantage of the classes he offers while I can still get them.
And I should call the plumbing people about the thing we really need to fix, and call the city about the plumbing thing we might need to fix, and call the roofing people about that, and so on and so forth. Houses! They take so much work! The gutters need dealing with, too. And the leaves. (And the heaps of polleny fronds.) And the bushes beside the driveway. At least I finally got the car dealt with.
Being an adult sometimes feels endless. There's this rotating cycle of chores, and finishing them doesn't mean being done; it means time for a breather before moving on to the lower priority chores, or dealing with ones that I did last time and are now due again.
But I like being an adult. I like this house and its kitchen, despite the cost and maintenance. I like cooking, despite the dishes. I like the dog, despite the barking. I am extremely fond of my spouse. And I have ever so many excellent books just waiting to be read.
It's a good life. Despite the dishes.