Something Up With Which I Will Not Put

This is my life at the moment:

Morning - teach two-hour class on critical thinking, reading & writing...

drive through various conglomerations of construction vehicles and the resulting traffic mess to a completely different college...

afternoon - attend three-hour Developmental Psych classes...

drive back (now at rush hour)...

evening - teach two-hour class on issues of identity in Canadian women writers' works (and the last two evenings, this class was devoted to individual conferences with the students to review their writing skills, which means that last night I got home just after 9 p.m., and the night before, just after 10).

In between all this, I am prepping classes, reading the psych texts, writing journals and other assignments, finishing leftover assignments from the Assessment course, and preparing my portfolio to mark the completion of the first third of the program.

This morning I woke up in a panic and had to ask Dr. T what day it was - I had a dream (which seemed interminable) that I had forgotten my Thursday evening class, and that it was actually Friday this morning. My panic was not abated by the helpful newsreader on the radio who apparently had the same nightmare and kept referring to the weekend as 'tomorrow'.

Four more weeks, four more weeks, four more weeks...