Working

The long list of tasks shakes you out of sleep. You can't seem to organize them, or remember them, much less act on them. The meetings you have to schedule, to attend, the typing of inmate work, the compiling of manuscripts for the magazine, the curriculum design for the new course, the honors contracts, the guest speaker invitations, all the correspondence, the contacts with people who might help, just what you are going to do in the next class all bang on the door of your sleep, turn on the lights, and sit on the bed and harangue you at one in the morning. Even the cat joins in to remind you that she needs feeding and a visit to the vet. So what do you do? You lie there and try to sort it all out, but your brain doesn't cooperate. It just tangles up the voices into a knot that settles into your neck. It goes on like this for a couple of hours before you slip into a fitful unconscious. When light says it's time to get up, you pull yourself into the day, dead beat tired, leaden, bags under your eyes. You carry on.