The fog outside (which is all spooky and atmosphere) matches the fog in my head. I am still stumbling through my days. I assume at some point I will recover my alertness, but by then it will be Thanksgiving. (Let’s not talk about Thanksgiving at the moment.)
On the bright side, I’ve been talking about creative nonfiction in my class. Suddenly I don’t need to prepare excessively. I don’t need to read old textbooks. This shit just spills right out of me. Yesterday I even, (gasp!) improvised.
Of course I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing tomorrow in class. And only one kid constructed an effective argument in the last paper. I wish I were back in [city redacted] in a borrowed apartment writing my little fucking heart out.
Where would you like to be?