I got a robocall from the Superintendent of Schools of Miami-Dade County last night welcoming me and the rest of the population back to school today. This proves once again Einstein’s theory of relativity: two weeks can seem like a lifetime when you’re waiting for something to come along, like a vacation or break (this is technically not vacation time), and a microsecond when you’re approaching the end and looking at going back to your normal schedule.
Where did the time go? What did I accomplish?
Well, I did catch up on some sleep, although it took almost the entire time to adjust my circadian rhythm to waking up at a reasonable hour (and I still got up in the middle of the cycle to use the facilities; sleep doesn’t win out over nature). I binged on “Downtown Abbey” and got to the middle of Season 6 and now face the dilemma of deciding which is my favorite character: Mrs. Patmore or the Dowager Countess? (As for eye candy, tough choice between Tom the chauffeur turned erstwhile gentry or Jimmy the footman.) I wrote 56 pages on my new play and did extensive re-writes as I went, which is how I write. I met with the director and producer of “Can’t Live Without You” to plan the production coming up in March at the Willow Theatre in Boca Raton and set up a Facebook page to promote it (see what I did there?). I spent four days with my parents in Cincinnati, which I posted about already. I went to Christmas dinner and a nice open house at Bob’s and the Old Professor’s house and enjoyed their Christmas and New Years revels. And I paid marginal attention to Trump and his ravings because I was on a break and why ruin a perfectly nice two weeks with extensive examinations of a lunatic?
When I lived in northern Michigan (and had a brief reminder of it this week), I remembered how we all got so joyous over the coming holiday season and heard about letting it snow, letting it snow, letting it snow, etc. Then the holidays were over and the damn snow and cold stuck around and really wore out its welcome by the middle of January, knowing we still had about four more months until it was safe to open the windows and let in the air (and even then). The hard work of getting through the winter was still ahead of us when the parties were over on January 2. I think that becomes the metaphor now for our political scene: Yay, we elected a record number of women, minorities, and progressives to offices ranging from Congress to local school boards, but the bleak midwinter of getting through the crap of Trump, MAGA, and the mythical Wall still faces us and, like a Michigan snowbank, will take a long time to melt away. Sometimes it takes a shovel. Or in this case, a gavel.
So I’m up and ready to go back to work. I’ll wear clothes that have been in the closet for two weeks, I’ll find my MetroRail pass, and the routine of doing the job will come back to me. (Knowing that I have a limited number of working days before I retire gives me hope and uncertainty, but that’s another post.)
I just hope I remember my password to my work computer.