11:49 p.m., time for fretting.

Today I slept in until 8:30, which seemed like, I don't know, noon or something. No one else was up except Bruiser. Bruiser likes to get up with the earliest riser because he hopes to go outside and help get the newspaper from the driveway. When I'm the earliest, it's iffy as to the paper fetching. I usually check the news online.


In case you would like a few more mundane details from my day:

• oatmeal
• three comments on this blog, but more than 200 page views (I find the tracking of page views to be absurdly gratifying, don't ask me why, and I don't find it a particularly attractive form of delight on my part, which is why, of course, I am sharing it with you on my BLOGGGGGGG.).
• walk, interrupted by yappy dog on the loose. WHY.
• lunch (almond butter on toast + orange)
• re-make video for class (new content necessitates remade video WHY).
• son and I go to see Django Unchained (so much more of a film than all my fussing about seeing it seemed to acknowledge).
• come home. eat leftover Indian food.
• grade.

Which brings me to the fretting part. The grading, certainly, which seems cruelly early in the semester, but that is the nature of online teaching, deal with it LISA for the love.

I am facilitating a series of digital storytelling workshops which I am afraid are going to yield no digital stories or storytellers. This has an extra sauce of worry on it--more so than my usual workshops to which 2.9 people come--because I said I would do it as a part of my DFL. That's Distinguished Faculty Lecture to you, would you like an invitation? Because I need to make a list of invitees, and also confirm the title which, I don't know where they got the title they have right now, but maybe they should just go ahead and use it? Because I don't know WHAT I'm talking about in that lecture.

Right. DFL. Digital stories. I would like to use snippets of other people's stories in my lecture about narrative as a form of thought (maybe). So I'm worried.

But there you go. I'm going to go to bed and worry there, because I've done what I can do for tonight, and that's that.

That is THAT. The worry and the fret can just go to hell.