delusions of idleness

So, I’ve done nothing today.

Yesterday, I went to office hours, had a meeting with my team teachers, and checked out some books. I graded drafts and planned my lesson for today.

Today? I taught. I didn’t even fill up all the time. I let them out 15 minutes early. I did, however, make them laugh a couple of times and scared the life out of them about their papers. That, I suppose, could be construed as success. I also did three loads of laundry.

So, I guess it’s specious to say that I’ve done nothing.

Yet, I feel as though I’ve done nothing.

But, here’s the thing: I don’t really care.

This week has been a week of feeling like junk and sleeping on the couch a lot. I’ve ditched all three Institute classes that I was supposed to attend this week to do just that.

I don’t really feel badly about that.

I have this behemoth hanging over my head, though–mainly, a set of three reading lists to do by October 1st, which is quickly coming down the road like a Mack truck about to smack me down–but I’m not worried about it.

I don’t know if I’ve achieved a Zen-like acceptance that all will be well, an embrace of confidence in my own abilities, or if I’ve left reality for the happy place where the shoemaker’s elves do all my work for me.

I’m hoping for the former, but fearing that it’s the latter.

Maybe I’ll clean. It’s REALLY beginning to bother me that my house is in the constant state of almost-chaos, even when it’s clean. It’s like one sneeze or stiff wind will send everything into a catastrophic collapse. The desk I’m sitting at is a perfect example. It’s driving me nuts, but it’s been like this for weeks because, honestly, cleaning seems like it’s this perpetually unsatisfying endeavour. I do it, and then stuff gets dirty again and I have to do it again. Sometimes it is deeply unsatisfying to only have that “ah…done!” feeling last for like three hours. And yet, I still feel like I need to do it, because the peace of the Spirit is in my home in richer abundance when there’s order there.

Which frosts my cookies sometimes, but I get it.

Hmm. Cleaning. That’s doing something, right?

Argh.

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