Difficulties

with blogging, that is. While I was folding laundry yesterday morning, I came to a realization that's not yet wholly formed, but may be worth mentioning nonetheless. It wasn't necessarily about blogging, I don't think, but it wound up there in a way.

I mentioned on here not too long ago that this may be the busiest teaching term I've ever had. I'm chairing an Honors Project, teaching an independent study, and maintaining the usual full load, including a course that is a new prep for me. It's been busy, but not that big of a deal because it's been fun and all that. Plus: the last day of classes is in five days.

The realization I came to while folding laundry, though, was this: I've kind of become one of those people who doesn't have much going on in his life outside of work, and I don't know exactly how this happened.

Last year, a colleague of mine told me that he works sixty to seventy hours a week during the school year. I believed him, but I didn't think it would ever be necessary for me to spend that many hours working. Well, I did, but I was guessing I'd spend forty or so hours on teaching and other "professional" duties each week and twenty or so hours on my own writing. I don't necessarily keep track of how many hours I spend each week working, but if I were to guess, I'd say the time I've spent just keeping up with teaching and all that comes with it would easily match the sixty to seventy hours a week my colleague puts in.

Which, as I've said before, hasn't left me much time to write. And which makes me a little cranky, and jittery, and, um, maybe even a little self-involved.

This weekend, for example, my parents lost their power, and while I was telling my mom I'd be glad to have them come stay with us I was secretly wishing that their power would snap back on, because I had stuff to do. "Sure," I wanted to say. "You can come and get warm, eat some food, but I'm not going to be around."

Last night, I was even going to miss my nephew D.'s birthday party because of a work commitment. When J.C. first brought it up on Sunday, I got all huffy, and was like, "I can't go. I'm busy all night." Alas, I pulled back a little. And I went to Applebee's. (Hey, it's D.'s choice--and he's eleven, what do you expect?)

And as for this blog--like I said, I don't have much going on in my life outside of work. Thus, since I don't really talk much about work on here, no new updates.

Now, though, there is one: I went to D.'s birthday party last night. D. brought his friend D. along. D.'s friend D. has given up celery for Lent. I thought he was maybe making a joke, in the same way my dad jokes about giving up heroin every year for Lent. But, alas, D.'s friend D. was serious. "I really like it with peanut butter," he said.

J.C. and I gave D. an electronic version of Catch Phrase for his birthday, and we played it for a little while we waited for our food to arrive. D. was the first to hold the machine in his hands, and he stared at the first word for a few seconds, squinting. The clatter of Applebee's was all around us: the waitresses, the basketball games on the TVs, table after table of couples and families. D. set the machine down and turned to me, asked, "What's 'middleclass'?"