Ancrene Wiseass

A would-be medievalist holds forth on academia, teaching, gender politics, blogging, pop culture, critters, and whatever else comes her way.

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Location: United States

Yes, this really is yet another blog by a disillusioned grad student. I sympathize, but that's just the way it has to be. For hints as to what my bizarre alias means, click here and here and, if needed, here and here. To get a sense of what I'm up to, feel free to check out the sections called "Toward a Wiseass Creed" and "Showings: Some Introductory Wiseassery" in my main blog's left-hand sidebar. Please be aware that spamming, harassing, or otherwise obnoxious comments will be deleted and traced.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005


My body is not happy with me today. Something about still trying to get over whatever viral entity took up residence in my innards, an inexplicable feeling that I always need to eat something RIGHT NOW that settled in yesterday afternoon, having a bizarre allergic reaction to God-knows-what that made my right eye swell up slightly and start watering at around 9:30 last night, falling asleep on the futon couch in my living room at about 11:00, and then waking up at 4:30am--only to realize that, rather than going to bed like a normal person, I had to get up and finish prepping for class--seems to have pissed it off slightly. The only nice thing I can say about waking up on the futon at 4:30 with my clothes from the previous day still on and all the living room lights blazing is that Mousie had jumped up there with me at some point and was nestled in just under my ribcage, and when I woke up, he started purring like mad. That was a nice good-morning.

Speaking of which little quadruped, he seems to have a hairball. Poor little guy. I've been doing less well with the brushing lately than I should have, so whatever he coughs up will look a lot like guilt to me. I'd worry about what it's remnants will look like to somebody else if the carpet hadn't been covered in stains since before I moved in anyway. Which reminds me that, whenever I get a chance to think about being domestic for more than five minutes together again, I really need to get somebody in to clean that carpet. (Yes, friends, this is what I'm reduced to: a fantasy life that includes visions of steam cleaners and enough time to brush my cat and glue my rickety patio chairs back together.)

I have no idea how I'm going to manage to force my abused personage into grading all my students' papers between now and 9am tomorrow, amid office hours and archiving hours and more class prep. And yet, that is precisely what has to happen.

And while I'm thinking about this, I'm also thinking about my student who's in the third trimester of her pregnancy and single-parenting her two-year-old while her husband's on duty with the military in Korea as she takes a full load of intensive summer prep classes. She didn't come in this morning, and I'm hoping she's okay and thinking what a slob I am not to be able to deal with grading some papers on time, juggling a few jobs, keeping my apartment from becoming a dump site, and brushing my cat every now and then. At least I don't have to deal with morning sickness, a husband in harm's way in another country, an hours-long daily commute, and a whole little person whose happiness depends on me. Honestly, I don't know how some of these folks do it. I really, really don't.