Physically I feel like my batteries are at “down to the nubbin'” level, with eight weeks still to go till the end of the semester. On top of that, there’s the Red Glove exam that I have to retake in December, in which I’m supposed to be physically more fit than I was last year.
It’s so pathetically ironic, I could just bust a gut, I’m laughing so hard.
Ain’t it goofy, that I’d be physically exhausted teaching and grading for seven classes, for chrissake. It’s not as if I’m digging ditches all day. I’m standing and talking, and when I’m not doing that, I’m sitting and proofreading student essays. Tedious but hardly physically demanding. But it’s funny how a mentally demanding job can physically tire a person out. It’s almost as bad as when I was in the corporate world, working 50-60 hours as a supervisory-level desk jockey.
So, eight more weeks. Whew. What with being a club faculty advisor, a supervisor of three adjunct instructors, and a committee member, on top of my seven classes, who has time for revamping an MA thesis or crocheting or additional savate workouts?
Eight more weeks. Wheeee…