For the past week or two, I’ve been driving to and arriving at work under partially blue skies. There were some mornings when I sat up in bed, turned off the alarm, and heard birds chirping outside. Initially, this is terrifying. It makes me feel like I’ve overslept. After a quick period of adjustment, however, it is exhilarating. It means summer.
Madison’s last day of school was yesterday and as soon as she got home, she started talking about movie night. Two weeks ago, she planted the seed by saying, “During the summer, we can have movie night every night because we don’t have school.” Lynnette quickly reminded her that some people in the house still have to work. “Well, me and dad can have movie night, every night,” Madison said, amending her previous statement. She wasn’t kidding. We cranked up the old Netflix and watched the first things suggested to us, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2. I can’t say I watched a whole lot of it – I was reading – but the parts I did see made me wonder who the hell writes these things. Apparently, there’s super-huge food again, but this time, all of it is alive. Sure. All that matters, I suppose, is that Mad got a kick out of it.
Lynnette relocated to Madison’s room so the Goob and I could watch the movie and she could sleep. Madison must be getting smarter because she had minimal questions related to the plot of the film, and she didn’t cry when the bad guy ripped the life-giving machine out of the food jungle. She did point out that the “bad man took the machine off the wires that gives the jungle energy,” though. Such a smart cookie. Anyway, once the movie ended, she rolled over. I finished a chapter of the book I was reading, then asked Mad what she wanted to watch tomorrow night, but my question was met with silence. She was out already! Maybe she’s just pacing herself. It isn’t even June yet!
Speaking of pacing one’s self, the only thing standing between me and the peace of mind of summer is a stack of Frankenstein essays. They are not long – hopefully they’re good – and since grades are due on Monday, if I maintain a pace of 9 essays a day between now and then, I should be fine. Hypthetically. Ideally. In theory. It’s doable, though, I’ve already willed myself through grading the final exams yesterday afternoon while intermittently paying attention to the Mets game. The Mets are three games under .500, and somehow only three games back of the lead in the National League East. That’s terrible and awesome at the same time, which would make the Mets a perfect metaphor for the next three days of mostly summer with scattered grading.
I’m going to sign off here, so that I may get started on my nine essay quota for the day. I have breakfast with my co-workers in two hours or so, so I think I can bang out a few between now and then. This is not a celebration. No, no, no. We must not think it is summer lest we behave like it is summer. I can’t do that juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust yet.