Now That We’ve Found Love . . .

I like this song. In fact, I like every remix and version of it.

Meanwhile, I rest. My blog languishes. My workload is beyond belief. And I believe it.

Know what happens when you haven’t had to work any mathematical equations beyond percentages and family budgets for over 20 years? You forget how to approach some data. You overlook things and then you realize at 11pm that your project for statistics is missing major components. And you made a C on your first test. And this is important to you even if you wind up having to drop the class from sheer exhaustion and start it over again another semester. You pull back, growl at your mind for not seeing a pivotal detail and you begin. Again.

And at 1:30 in the morning you realize you never converted from kilograms to pounds. So, you begin again. See, this profoundly alters the histogram and the infuriating box plot. The best news is that there is something alive in you, something you’ve not felt before when you’re working these charts and equations. Standard deviation? Coefficiency of variation? What’s next? I’m exhausted and pissed but there is this vibe that adores the opportunity to use these mental muscles. Hey, maybe I’ll like calculus. But it’s not on the docket for a psyche major!

By 2:20 in the a.m. when you go to stand up, your back gives out on you and you quickly become the narrator of your life, the “you” to whom you refer as you figure out how to get up steep steps to a charger for a cell whose battery is low and you realize it’s quite a simile. Um, I mean metaphor. Yeah, that’s it. Right? Oh hell. I’m lysdexic too! But I’m no cell phone…(why did I shift voice here?!)

Hey, even with screaming agonizing feet and a twisted lower back, life is good!

Nap time . . .