One of those days...

I overslept. My husband woke me up, as always, but then went outside to check on the dogs. One had escaped, so he spent 15 minutes chasing him and securing the fence.

I woke up when he came back in. 15 minutes late. I don't allow a whole lot of time to get ready in the mornings. I rarely wear makeup, my hair is low maintenance, so it really only takes me about 30 minutes to get ready and get out the door.

Olivia was also still in bed. She had neglected to lay out her clothes last night, so she was completely ineffective. (She ended up carrying clothes with her to the car and getting dressed on the way.)

Since I was running behind, I decided to wear my hair curly instead of heat-styling it. But it was a bit frizzy, so I needed my spray bottle to put some water on it. I saw the Ace-Hardware sprayer that I used, and sprayed my hair.

Only after I had lost my coffee did I realize that the sprayer was not my water sprayer, but was instead full of spray cleaner. I have no idea what is in my hair. I am hoping ammonia. It didn't smell like bleach.

I eventually found my coffee and ran out of the house. I was stopped by two red lights, of course, but that was okay, since it gave Miss O more time to get dressed.

I walked into my classroom at 7:54, so the morning ended okay, I suppose. But I am still worried about what is in my hair.

Oh, and to top it all off, I am sick. I've got a doctor's appointment at 3:30 this afternoon.

Time keeps on slippin'...

I don't know how the time keeps slipping past me. Well, I take that back. I do know what happened last week. Last week I was in a funk.

My job is as a contingent faculty member in a wonderful department in a wonderful university. Seriously, I love what I do and where I do it. I work with a great bunch of people. However, I am on a one-year, non-renewing contract. I always know that April may roll around and my name not appear on the schedule.

Evidently some other people in my same position practice magical thinking and secretly believe that some how, some way, they will achieve the holy grail for masters-level faculty: lectureship.

Right.

One person was actually kind of lied to about the possibility of a lectureship. But you know what? She read the writing on the wall and got a real job.

Me? I continue to hold on, mostly because I like our insurance and I have kids at home. One is in ballet and piano and one is in therapy. Both of them keep me running.

But I digress. The reason that I am all in a funk is that our chair, in trying to make everyone understand why we will not be getting lectureships, somehow makes us seem like... well, unimportant. Replaceable. Interchangeable. (This is not completely his fault. The university has a policy that codifies that stance.)

So there it is. For the first time in a number of years, I am considering work outside of education. I am even considering an MBA. (Evidently math is not really a requirement.)

(I am also considering whether starving myself the rest of today can somehow manage to make my weight go back to last week's weigh in by my weigh in tomorrow. I consider lots of things.)