This is a Christmas "vacation" I am going to enjoy. Considering that I'm unemployed for much of the year, between projects, it's odd that they always arrive at the times of year when I most want to enjoy myself: summertime and December. The other eight months of the year, I'm twiddling my thumbs, feeling like the wretched underachiever I am, and casting about for work. But when it's Christmas or my husband's off for the summer from teaching, I've always got plenty to do and looming deadlines. Meeting those deadlines does feel extra good, though, because it means I can jump in a pool afterward, or go bake Christmas cookies.
Tonight, I feel as liberated and relieved as I did long ago, when I handed in my college term papers. This usually didn't happen until January and June because I'd requested and received multi-week deadline extensions. Many a college vacation was spent bent over my Smith-Corona portable (with the correcting cartridge that slid in and out in place of the ribbon cartridge, remember?), surrounded by index cards, books, and crumpled wads of typing paper. I remember one year where I spent my entire Christmas break writing about the American funeral industry for an anthropology course. What tidings of joy that brought. I also remember finishing up an art history paper (Lewis Carroll's photography, I think) on the 4th of July.
The other night I woke up wondering about my exams. What exams?
Now that I think about it, I'm surprised I was dreaming because I've gotten so little sleep lately. I go to bed around 2, get up around 8, and spend the time in the middle dealing with Harris, who continues to nurse on our earlobes.
More on that subject later. I'm going to hang out with my four cats, and generally slack off for the rest of the night.