It being September, the university is veritably twitching with activity. After a deep summer slumber, every faculty, department, student organization, and activist group on campus is hosting some form of meeting, all of which apparently require my direct personal involvement.
Today, I spent nine hours planning, preparing, reviewing, responding, calling, emailing, or otherwise communicating about said meetings. Since today was my day off, I am displeased. Correction: I am downright cranky, and in dire need of a personal assistant. Or a wife.
In other news, I have dreamt of nothing but stress sex for the last two weeks. This is not the fleeting, distracted sex that so often occurs in dreams, but a vivid, almost palpable otherworld of escapist eroticism, unsullied by symbolic non-sequiturs and deaf to intruding alarm clocks.
There are no meetings in my dreams, nor emails neither.
Tonight, after the last phone call, I got on my bike and rode for a long time. I will not miss this last breath of summer, September be damned.