We had short people invasion problems last night, and I got no sleep. Seriously–4:00 a.m. and the short people are invading the bed, and all of the wiggling, giggling, and hair pulling that that implies…and around 4:45, everybody gets to sleep, and fifteen minutes later, the Cave Troll squeals in his sleep and unloads a half a gallon of used liquid. Mate leaps out of bed and starts the midnight (or a quarter til five) sheet/pj change, and Cave Troll stands up, looks miserable (as mom is changing him into whatever the crap we had on hand) and says, “I’m sorry I peed on you, dad.”
Oi. I would have been the walking dead today, but I had an assignment that involved music (compare/contrast Springsteen’s ‘My Hometown’ to Bowling for Soup’s–if I don’t lose my job, it could be the best lesson I’ve taught all year. The chorus to the BfS version pretty much hammers the idea of ‘I’m just glad we got the fuck out of our hometown!’) and so I was there, mostly, jumping up and down and walking them through the differences in poetic terminology. It was great. I’l spend the rest of the year being perfectly mediocre, but for a minute there, I was almost a real teacher again.
And then I sat and tried to get some writing done and fell asleep. For forty-five minutes…it took me the whole drive home to get rid of that thready-heartbeat, caught-breath feeling that happens when you wake up too soon from a nap you didn’t mean to take.
So, I’m giving BMoonII a rest and spending the rest of the night knitting, and hoping the short people can hold their own with the bedtime bogeymen tonight. It’s a hope, anyway. (The fishlight still has a little bit of magic in it–at least they go down in their own room!)
But BMoon II beckons, and Part I will be out in five or so weeks, and I think, when I get that baby in my hands, I may actually weep for joy. You never know.
Oh yes–I didn’t give props to Donna Lee yesterday, but I snarfed her quiz, threw it up on my blog really quick, and took all the credit–sorry, darling–I didn’t mean to do that, and belated thanks to you. It was just that (and you all can back me up, here) it was such a rockin’ quiz that there was really no question that I was going to take it. And pass it on to my buddy who loves Jane Austin so much that she actually reads fanfic–a think I swore I would never do, but I’m starting to think twice about it. (I’ve got students threatening fanfic for my books…I’m tempted to tell them to do it so I can see what they want my characters to do…)
Anyway, my knitting is calling…that first pair of mitts turned out WAY too big, so I’m working on a different pattern/different yarn thing, just to get the bad taste out of my mouth that a dip in the Nile from the great ship Gauge Disaster can leave. I like this pair–of course, it’s Debbie Bliss Cashmerino…I would have to actually roll it in a ball and eat it to make it look as bad as that last pair I knit.
And this is the younger, dipshit Dashwood sister Marianne, signing off…
Sounds like a rough night. Don’t you guys own a cat? Cats are pretty good guardians. Might want to start instilling the idea into the short people.
Dipshit Dashwood. Bahahahaha.
Yanno, the only type of poetry comparison assignment I ever got was two poems about London bridge written five hundred years apart by two guys I’d never heard of and don’t remember fifteen years later. In fact, that was the assignment that made me dump the class. Shame you weren’t around. I’d have actually enjoyed the class. And LEARNED SOMETHING.
You are a real teacher. Every day.
Marianne was sort of cool – after all she had lots of fun!
Oh my goodness – I had a lot of catching up to do! For some reason, I wasn’t able to get on your site the last couple of days…? Oh well, I’m here now, I guess. Love the poem to the Harlot! Hope you had a better night’s sleep tonight! (And I have to add, I’m feeling like a bit of a slouch, seeing all that you do get done in one day WITHOUT SLEEP and WITH LITTLE KIDS and WITH A JOB. I think I will go hide under my bed, now.)