Day Diary for Oct. 4, 2023
6:05 a.m. – wake up to classical music, after hitting the alarm snooze once. Feeling a bit tired and bleary; was out at a concert last night; drank a couple beers; then stayed up watching the end of a baseball game. So, a little less sleep than normal, though I slept an hour later than I usually do.
Because I allowed myself to sleep late, I need to hustle: Yawning vigorously, I brush my teeth and shower; half-dress; put fruit, yogurt, and cereal in a bowl; put salad in a bowl & take a lunch from the freezer and some fruit and put this lunch stuff in a canvas bag; finish dressing; pour coffee; and set up on the couch. All of this in a rushed, not-very-mindful, slightly delirious, half-conscious state.
By 6:45 – I’m on the couch, where I turn on baseball highlights and eat my breakfast and talk to C. I am frankly paying one-third attention to her (talking about Kevin McCarthy’s ignominious fall, among other things) and one-third attention to baseball and something like one-sixth attention each to what I’m eating and one-sixth to my wandering thoughts about a busy, upcoming day. At one point I drop a small dollop of yogurt on my shirt, and go to the kitchen to put cold water on it so it doesn’t stain. (A bright yellow dress shirt that I like).
By 7:15 or so, I’ve refilled my coffee and opened the garage and backed the car halfway down the drive, when I realize I don’t have my sunglasses, put the car in park, and go back inside and get them. I kiss C and get back in the car and am driving down the street outside my house at 7:23. I have a meeting at 8:30, and will be there just in time.
For the next hour I’m on I-69 heading toward Muncie. I have been wanting to hear what NPR has on McCarthy; I immediately catch one short story about it; then flip between music on my phone and the news, flipping back to NPR at 8 so I can hear more about the House. None of it is especially interesting, new, or enlightening. I want to feel a little schadenfreude about this, but it’s not like it’s going to be good for anybody if the House can’t function.
During the drive my mind goes in and out of focus on the news and the music and wanders among various things: the concert I was at last night (Broken Social Scene, an early oughts indy band from Toronto—very good; fun outside on a warm night with friends); some surprising and slightly concerning personal news one of those friends gave me; politics politics politics, including the Indy mayor’s race, which both C. and my concert friends were talking about: The incumbent is going for a third term and hasn’t made a very compelling case, and was silent while the GOP challenger framed the discussion in August and September with attacks about public safety and guns with tons of TV commercials.
I get to work at 8:30 — and go to a large administrative meeting (like 100 people), listen and take notes. I sit in the back and stand periodically, since I didn’t have time to stretch this morning. Meeting is a lot of routine stuff, important enough, not exciting. As the meeting breaks up I say “Hi” to a couple work friends, then go downstairs to my next meeting, at 9:30 – at which I discuss Chat GPT and textbook prices with a colleague, getting updated on various initiatives. This is pleasant and absorbing but (like almost everything today), a bit rushed. I look at my phone multiple times to make sure I’m not going to be late.
At about 9:55 – we walk out together, chatting about possible travel and vacation days, and I peel off and go to my office across the quad, exactly on time for my 10 o’clock meeting—a regular check-in with a group of department chairs and my office colleagues, where we talk about a range of issues. Again, fairly absorbing—talking about problems local and more encompassing and updating each other on this and that.
This goes until 11:20 and, while there was nothing even marginally unpleasant about any of this, the whole while I’ve been aware that I’m not making progress on any of my multiple tasks. Now I can finally sit down and do some things. I start by going through email and quickly dealing with a couple easy items. There is an annoying (because unclear) email suggesting that quick action is needed on something important, but neither the email nor the long thread nor several attachments makes at all clear what is being asked of me. I write a concise email saying, “Can we talk on the phone about this?” and suggesting some times. I continue in this vein and check a few low-labor tasks off my list.
Maybe it’s lack of sleep; maybe its annoyance with some tasks on my plate that don’t seem very meaningful (see “cocktail prep” below); maybe it’s what seems like days and days in a row of hours of meetings, none of which pertain directly and specifically to what I’m working on and care about; but I am doing all of this in a slightly anxious, slightly vexed, cranky frame of mind.
Now it’s 12:10, and I go to the office kitchen & pour dressing on a salad, carry it to my desk while rice & beans warm up in the microwave, then sit and eat my lunch and read about baseball, thinking—not for the first time today, I’m pretty sure, that I’m slammed today and just looking forward to the baseball game tonight, when I can sit down and be absorbed and have this landscape of annoyance drift away.
At about 12:35 I take my dirty dishes to the kitchen, go to a fountain and fill my water bottle, and sit back down at my desk, answer some more emails & write up a proposal document. This is the one focused, fairly absorbing thing I’ve done at my desk today, and I get it done quickly. I’ve got like 4 events that I’m organizing or helping organize at the moment, which means scanning email, noting who said yes to what or who lined up this detail or that. I do some more of this. My desk is a mess, I notice.
At 2 o’clock I have another meeting, in our office suite: an update on the work of an important committee. Really good colleagues, who are doing excellent work. Pretty efficient and expeditious. But I’m tired & incompletely engaged. I get back to my office at 2:45 and there’s a meeting invitation for 4 to check back in with M., a co-worker, on a project. I take a deep breath and accept the meeting; delete a couple emails, write one or two, jot down a note, and grab my refillable coffee cup, take it to the kitchen sink and wash it out and head over to the student center (where I spent the hours 8:30-10) to meet my friend K. for coffee. This is a break; I’ve been friends with K. since our first day at BSU, 23 years ago. He’s got tons going on; family & work & kids, and we see each other rarely now. We drink coffees and catch up. We talk about: concerts we’ve seen (including mine last night); cycling; his kids; a few work things. It’s good to see him, and for a few minutes I’m almost fully present, not thinking about the next task, not thinking about baseball.
Almost. * A little after 3:30, I walk back to the office. K peels off halfway across the quad. I think, not for the second time today, I’m pretty sure, that I’m slammed today and just looking forward to the baseball game tonight, when I can sit down and be absorbed and have this landscape of annoyance drift away.
Back at my desk, I fiddle with mails and such for a bit; I write an email to the unclear-email writer, who in the interim has written another unclear email; I say: “So, you don’t need anything from us?” I do a few things for an event that I’m planning in 2 ½ weeks (see “cocktail prep,” below), then at 4 – I meet with M and go over some data she’s gathered for a project involving student success. This is one of those things where we are surveying the landscape and trying to identify where is the best place to intervene/bring some resources to bear. It’s an interesting problem and, even with data, requires some speculation and ultimately a bit of a leap of faith. We talk about this and identify some next steps. We also catch up on some personal things and some other, tangential work things.
At about 4:45 I’m back at my desk doing the last emails of the day: accept a meeting, send M. a thumbs-up for something she proposed; thank a student for being willing to present on a panel.
At just after 5 I am out the door and en route to the parking garage. Driving home I start listening to the afternoon baseball game, but it doesn’t divert, so I flip to music. It’s nice outside, sun is getting low (it’s fall, though you wouldn’t know—it’s over 80 degrees); my mind is wearily drifting from thing to thing in the day; at the same time I’m a little on edge because when I get home I need to do
Cocktail prep
Which begins around 6:10. I need to make syrups for a cocktail that will be one of the centerpieces of this alumni event I’m planning for 2 ½ weeks from now. (Have I mentioned that I have Ph.D in Literature?). In the moment, I am able to shake off the resentments. I like to cook, and I’m interested in having this come out, so I work quickly but with some absorption. To do this cocktail I need to make a sweet tea and a syrup. I boil and simmer, then let the syrup steep while I go into the living room and eat dinner. C. and I catch up while we eat.
After dinner, I strain the syrup, then make a first-try experimental cocktail. The thing about this cocktail is it’s supposed to dramatically change color when you add lemon juice. I do that. It changes color. It would be an exaggeration to call it “dramatic.” Also, interestingly, it tastes excellent. (I haven’t added any liquor). I’ll need to do a bit more experimenting later in the week. I do dishes; by the time I’m done it’s nearing game time, which is just after 8 – I settle in to watch the game. It’s pretty absorbing. The Phillies pitcher, Aaron Nola, is getting good results. His curveball is very good. It also looks, at times, like the Marlins are helping him out, swinging at bad pitches, looking anxious, etc. The Phillies pretty much control the game. C. gets nervous watching playoff games, so she leaves in the 3rd inning and reads in the office; around the fifth she says she’s going to bed, and I go in to tuck her in, pausing the game.
In the 6th inning, about 90 minutes in, the Phillies hit a grand slam and go up by six runs. I’m tired, and I consider going to bed and watching the rest in the morning. Then I think, I could sleep a little later if I do my PT exercises tonight. So I pull out my yoga mat and my stretchy bands and I do my PT regime, which is for arthritis in my hip, while the game plays. I take my time doing this and the game is moving rapidly, so that by the time I’m done it’s already the eighth inning. So I go back to the couch and, very tired but awake, watch the rest of the game. The moment it’s over I shut out the lights, climb under the covers, and am rapidly having dream images and that floating feeling…
*This asterisk marks the point at which I stopped writing on 10/4. Everything else is reconstructed from memory and very sparse notes, almost a week later.