By Anonymous Guest Poster
[This is our first anonymous guest post. Every teacher has to deal with well-meaning relatives saying things like, "well it must be nice to have summer off." The truth is, we don't get summer off, and many of us work harder in the summer than we do during the school year. There are well documented studies of how many hours a week academics actually work, but our guest author thought that sharing a diary of one day's summer work would maybe bring the point home a little better. It seemed like a good idea to us. You can be the judge. - Phil Percs]
4:30 AM Wake up. Some whirring susurration just outside my office door. The night janitor? I don't want to know.
4:45 AM How did I sleep. Computer is still on. Janitor is singing, must have no idea I am in here. The song about how a girl knows he wants her ("Girl, you know I want you. . ."). Worked so late last night that I ended up crashing on the futon. I try not to do this during the school year, but this anthology I'm editing (Word Unheard? New Essays on Semantic Externalism) is due in two weeks and I only have a fraction of the introduction completed.
5:00 AM Crap. I have to pee but then the janitor will know that I heard her awful singing. Peeked out the door and didn't see anyone. The ghost janitor! Ha. Ha. Back soon.
5:15 AM The sun is not out. This place is always creepy at night. I kind of like it. Maybe that's why I sleep on the futon sometimes?
Can you have a metaphysical hangover without having a physical hangover? I think that's what I've got. Kingsley Amis-
When that ineffable compound of depression, sadness (these two are not the same), anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear for the future begins to steal over you, start telling yourself that what you have is a hangover. You are not sickening for anything, you have not suffered a minor brain lesion, you are not all that bad at your job, your family and friends are not leagued in a conspiracy of barely maintained silence about what a s**t you are, you have not come at last to see life as it really is and there is no use crying over spilt milk.
And if that fails, there are always computer games! Agar.io