coffee: you can sleep when you're dead

life returns to normal again. paranormal. i made dinner and cleaned up the mess before we ate. outlandish, i know. the christmas tree is shedding on the curbside, graciously tossed there by brother will, who spent many a january as a boy dragging the discarded christmas tree through his own backyard. the house is clean, the laundry is done. my study is still waiting for paint so the mess is messy, not unusual, only multiplied. i hope nothing important is buried and forgotten.

a newer student in a gigantic shirt and a ski mask informed me today that i looked like i had to be "at least thirty-seven years old!" since it's probably unprofessional to discuss my students on such a public place as this, i'll refrain from saying how i felt and what i wanted to say to him. it's a good thing that he's cute and does endearing things like pop tic tacs and bring good luck charms ("i'm really gonna need this tonight!") to lessons, that's all i can say. did i mention the hintings of a mullet on his freckled neck?



henry's awana teacher told me that henry was "such a delight." and no one can disagree. i am more delighted every day, and i get to see him at his worst, so, that's saying something.

jude snores in red jammies, a tummy full of lasagna and grape tomatoes. henry fights sleep while ernie holds him in a poppy lock: tight and fast and near-inescapable. oh, to be given the sleep thanklessly allotted to henry! to sleep and to drool on clean sheets stretched over and under down, snuggled beneath heaps of covers and comforter, for hours on end. uninterrupted dreams, until late in the morning, waking slowly and blinkingly with stretches and thoughts before thinking of slippers and the cold of the day! when i was in college i set my alarm on saturday mornings for seven, sometimes earlier. what a freak! those days of irresponsibility are long gone. we wake, all too soon, to bouncing and chirruping and altogether too much chipper cheerfulness. of course, one day, not too far from now, we'll be alone in our bed in the quiet and dim and will be sorry we were so crabby in the yesterdays that were this morning, are tomorrow morning, are next monday morning. sigh. a little contentment goes a long way. it just doesn't let you sleep in.