Sunday morning

The wind howled around the house last night. As usual, I forgot to bring the wind chimes in for the winter, and they were ringing all night, buffeted by the gusts that just wouldn't stop. Our defunct Brumalia shrubbery, which was denuded and near the curb for garbage pickup, was blown right up against the rear wheels of the Volvo on the driveway, but other neighbours' have been blown into the street. At least now it is calm.

I baited the rat zapper and left it behind the neewall last night, only to find the light flashing just now and some of the bait gone, but no electrocuted rodent therein. It makes me wonder what kind of critter I’m hunting here. At night I can hear it skittering behind the wall, moving around the perimeter of the house. It always sounds so much bigger than it is.

I’m supposed to meet Patsy for lunch today when we register for our belly dancing class, but she hasn’t answered any of my messages, and I’m wondering what’s going on. I’m not sure if it’s tomorrow or next week when we resume our classes. In the meantime, the new classics hire will be teaching Latin this term, and has already been sending out emails to let her potential students know when class will be, or at least to determine a time since it was marked on the calendar as TBA, and there are only four or five of us tops.

I must confess that I’m not really ready to go back to school, either in my rôle as student or teacher. I just kind of wish that vacation would stretch on for a bit longer, and I think it’s because Hubby is on sabbatical this term and is just relishing not having to prepare any classes or go into his office. I miss the days when I liked my colleagues, when the people I worked with were the people I played with, when I could be a grownup with other grownups. Now I am not part of that group anymore, and I’m not really part of the student body either, even though many of them really do make me feel accepted. But it’s not like I’m going to their parties or hanging out with them outside of class.

Then there’s the added stress of not knowing if we’re going to be striking or not. With our luck, we will go on strike and be walking the picket line during the coldest week (or weeks) of winter, the warmest winter on record. I can see it now. Oy vey.

Well, sorry for sounding kind of down here. I’m not really; just kind of dreading going back to school is all. Hubby and Buddy Boy are talking about going into Montreal today and I considered going with them, but I think they’ll have more fun without me. Little Princess just got back yesterday from her Ottawa trip with Ed (I picked them up from the bus station and drove him home) and I’ve missed her, pink hair and all.

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