I believe in mantras when it comes to difficult teachers. Mine is a bit of cliche; I walk about muttering the tried and true countdown. Two weeks, just two weeks, four class sessions, 12 more hours, and for better or worse the class will be over with. After today's session, of course! The saddest part of all is that he hasn't taught me diddly-squinks. That's not particularly mournful on my part; the universe sometimes works that way, that's all. But it is sad on his part, because he is just so proud of himself. "This is my teaching style," he proclaims. "I humiliate students, I badger them, I force them to think!" He gives his students a bit more than they can chew on without help and then doesn't help.
Enough. I think I have enough to write a few hundred words for my class assignment in PE. After, of course, I finish writing Dr. Hair Shirt's term paper this weekend. I don't know if I should be frenetic or fatalistic in this pursuit. If I thought that my work might count for something I would pursue the goal with energy. In a class where a student can't tell if the teacher is even reading the work, a fatalistic outlook might be more comfortable.
On the plus side, I got some yarn in the mail a couple of days ago that is almost tribble-like in its ability to soothe. It's a plain worsted weight wooly, but it feels so sumptious. It isn't in a color I'd wear -- it's going to be socks for an aunt -- but I just love having it around to pet. I think I've found my grail of yarns. More, more, more! Except that I don't have a relative on the face of the planet who would get me yarn for a gift (sigh). I guess I'll just have to get it myself. The other unfortunate part is that I can't really get any more for me until I have all of my Christmas & holiday season knitting done. On the other, unwarty hand, I do have a couple of gift projects to shop for...don't they call this rationalization?
Since semester has started I haven't done a lick of work down at the gym. My average weight has remained a steady 205, which isn't good, but at least I'm not gaining more. To be blatantly optimistic I believe that when I do get into a steady exercise schedule, I'll probably drop at least half the weight that I need to. Oh, to be 150 pounds again! Even more importantly, to be able to move without feeling the drag of nearly 60 pounds of excess fat. To be able to move without huffing and puffing; to be able to climb stairs without losing my breath; to be able to face weeding the back yard without a bone-deep wince. I am looking forward to it.