End of Semester and the Introverted Animal

Actually, compared to many of my colleagues, I am not that introverted. I am no party animal, either, and when the hour gets late and the music goes up, and people want to go to one more club, I'm in a cab, in the car, heading for those hills. Not that I've often been so witless as to be in that position in the first place. But May Madness has arrived. The title of this post might as well say "and the Exhausted Animal," because that may be the true reason behind the fact that I cannot. go. to. one. more. late afternoon-evening. "celebration." I'm not counting awards ceremonies, rubber chicken luncheons or the wine-in-little-plastic-cup trustee meet and greet. I am counting the retirements, congratulations, happy send off to foreign land, good-bye and good luck dinners, potlucks, alcoholic at-homes. Bleary eyed and massively underslept from grading and being sluiced through end of semester committee meetings, I stumble from one hors-d'oeuvre at colleague condo to the next night's barbeque at chair's lair, and on it goes. Not cooking and getting to take leftovers home: worth the price of admission (usually two wine bottles). Chance to talk with colleagues and to discover that we all really hate so-and-so: worth several aspirin. Number of bottles of wine purchased in May compared to number of bottles of wine purchased January-April, so far: 15/3. Opening fridge to look for something to eat and finding three pieces of cheesecake and a small tupperware container of potato salad: occupational hazard. The desire to bag it, go home, have a cup of tea, sit with the papers, the reading, the files, and the cats: the nature of the beast. Good night.