salty

Any delusions I may have had concerning that elusive concept of "free time" are slowly melting away. What I seem to be left with is a big, dirty, slushy mess of new deadlines, more work, days I'll be "on call" in class, meetings, and that ever-persistent feeling of guilt I get when my nose isn't buried in a book.
I'm feeling as worn out and salty as the bike that's sitting out in my hallway, drying off. Yeah, I've been neglecting it.

I know I shouldn't and I know I have to wipe it down, lube the chain, and clean the damn rims, but for now, the pile of papers and books and the possibility of falling behind in my work intimidate me more. This weekend, I promise, really. Hats too, after I get some stuff done. It's there on my list - people are there on my list - and I'm frantically trying to check things off, cross them out, and get moving on, well, everything.
I even tried to promise myself to write longer posts, make them more interesting and all that. Yeah, it's not really happening yet. Soon, though, soon. I promise.
I promise, I keep my promises.