Right now I have the rather unseemly feeling of someone who hasn't written a poem in longer than she would like to, and who probably has no time in the perceivable future to write that poem. It's kind of like when I try to get away with not washing my hair, since it looks just fine in the morning, but then ten minutes later it's abundantly clear that I will not get away with it after all.
Many people are holding conferences this week, since it's around midterm. So my work (editing, grading, reading) is often interrupted by fragments like Be sure to use some Purell or Take care now, Randy.
Perhaps I'm a little unsettled because Fall is usually my favorite season, but aside from getting a generous football fix, I've been missing out on the other things I like because it has been too cold. It feels like winter. My poor mums glare at me when I open the front door.
On the upside, I am getting used to using the camera in my new phone. I just don't know what to do about the flash. What's up with that? I imagine there's something called "settings" somewhere that can make it go away. I prefer to find my own light, thank you very much.