Early to rise.

Monday night, I was sorting the set of writing assignments from my grammar/style class (Editing Assignment #2). The sorting meant putting the papers for Tuesday's student conferences into one pile, those for Wednesday in another, those for Thursday and those for Friday into two more piles. Then I carefully lay the piles atop one another crosswise.

This process is what I call "grading." Or more precisely, "pre-grading." It was too exhausting to actually "grade." So I said to the historian (say it with me now): "I'm going to get up early tomorrow morning to grade."

And then I said (wait for it:): "So I'm going to go to bed early."

Cue me at midnight, having been in bed for nearly an hour. Am I asleep? No.

Note to self: "go to bed early" is a meaningless phrase (clause? you tell me, Grammar Police, similar to the Karma Police, but with a less beautiful melody to their theme song). Any "go to bed" before midnight is pointless.

Anyhow. Cut now to 5:45 a.m. I am dreaming some beautiful/lousy dream (which? you tell me, Dream Police, I can't remember). I hit the snooze button on my cell phone. Five minutes later, I hit it again, then say these immortal words: "Oh right. I want to get up."

At 7 a.m. I am at work. I am sitting in the student center with my stack of nine papers (that's today's crop). I am listening to Rostropovich playing the Bach Cello Suites and I am reading papers and I am--get this--enjoying myself. Quite a bit. At 7 a.m. Grading.

As of this moment, which is 11:24--that means it's 36 minutes to "go to bed"--I am feeling it, this long day preceded by not enough sleep. But it was a pretty good day. Okay, a full-on good day.