I thought that a whole week off from teaching would renew my energy, revive my enthusiasm, and make me all a-rearin' to go for the last two weeks of classes.

So, a week came and went - complete with a visit from friends with two small children (fun, but I don't know how they do it!), a small surgical procedure that's left me with three stitches on my back for the next two weeks, (all I can say about that is ick, ew, and yaaeggh), a completely devastated organic free-range turkey carcass (brined in honey, thyme, and garlic - it went fast), remnants of pumpkin-bread pudding with caramel sauce and bourbon whipped cream (yum), and a 2-foot high stack of grading that didn't get done as I downloaded and watched half of season 1 of Lost, discs 2 and 3 of Season 3 of Buffy, read 2 (or 3?) novels, napped, snuggled Spousal Unit, and moped.

And now, it is Sunday and I have to go to work tomorrow to lecture on the experience of ordinary Americans during the Civil War, face up to the fact that I didn't finish the grading I was supposed to do, and basically return to that thing they call a job. And, I am not refreshed, revived, or rearin' to go. I'm pissed, grumpy, and bitterly resentful that the real world seems to be insistently intruding on my leisure time. So, I've been moping about today doing anything but the things I absolutely have to do. Like grade or actually write the lecture I have to give.

When my Mother called this morning, she asked how I was, and I told her honestly that I was grumpy about having to teach tomorrow. Her helpful response was to say, "Well, Honey, that's why they call it work."

Gee. Thanks, Mom.

I suppose, though, that when your adult college professor of a daughter is acting like a spoiled toddler, it is appropriate to let her know it, in so many words.

But, can I just say, for the record: "Wah! I don't wanna go to school! I wanna stay home and play!"