Today Deborah, the assistant director of the Writing Program, didn’t come into the office, so I was unable to meet with her or share my plans for the upcoming academic year. This disappoints me. I had hoped to get that revelation out of the way and be done with my anxiety about it. Interestingly, though, I’m not at all aware why this makes me anxious in the first place. Perhaps, it has something to do with my wanting a response from her the nature of which I’m unable to articulate. Do I want her to express disappointment about my departure? Certainly, but I think it’s a difficult to define balanced response I’m hoping to hear. I want a fairly strong expression of sadness, coupled with both a willingness to have me back in the future and a desire for me to do what most benefits my relationship with S. Maybe I should script the most desirable response and send it to Deborah, so she can get her lines right.
At any rate, S. and I removed the disgusting brown carpet from Rachel’s room this afternoon. It’s good to have the smelly stuff bundled at the curb. Now I only dread our having to sand and refinish the floors–a dusty, dirty task however you stack it. Yet, we have made considerable progress in the past couple of weeks. In fact, recently the room was piled high with paraphernalia from power tools to Christmas cards, from miter saws to merry-go-rounds. Okay, I exaggerate. There may have been no ferris wheels or other state fair attractions stored in the space. But it was one hell of a Kings Island to our cats who don’t know that their brown carpeted theme park is now housed in the attic or passed on to Goodwill for good keeping.