PSA: The World is not Disneyland, Part Four Thousand Forty-Two

OK, who here does not know better than to go swimming in the ocean when there's been a Big Storm within the last couple days? Show of hands, here, people.

Right. The ocean is not your friend. The weather is not your friend. I speak here as one who is very much attracted to both the ocean and to dangerous weather. I understand the allure. But for cryin' out loud, don't dice with either for your life. Unless you're very, very lucky, you will lose.

News of the world, and a question

The auction for the papers associated with Lee and Miller's Carpe Diem has ended. Congratulations to the fortunate winner!

While the weather outside is cooling down, the weather in the attic office is...not. Today after work, I came home and napped, hoping to settle a headache (of which more in a moment) so nasty it was starting to upset my stomach. With Mozart's help, I fell asleep, waking in time to participate in a Heinous Act of Betrayal, as Steve and I boxed up himself and Scrabble for the annual pilgrimage to the vet. Both are pronounced healthy and were awarded shots.

Back home, I answered an editorial email, and will shortly join mine spouse for lunch. And an early bedtime. It's 'way too early in the academic year to be having even mini-meltdowns.

It appears that I have been granted a spot as a panelist for the February 18 presentation on Moonlighting sponsored by the Interdisciplinary Feminist Coalition at Colby College. More on that front as it materializes.

Via the New York Daily News, a reminder that writers aren't the most-exploited artists. Thanks to kinzel for the link.

About that headache.

One of my new chairs was trying to arrange a meeting. They had me reserve a room for Day X; called back and had me cancel that date, and reserve the room for another date, canceled that one and had me reserve for -- and I finally told them that I wasn't reserving any more rooms until they got their committee on-board with the date first. Then I'd reserve the room. To soften this, since I fear I may have been just a little stern, I added that the Scheduling Office would think that I'd lost my mind.

To which they replied, "Oh, just blame me."

To which I replied, silently, grrrrrr. Because of course, it's not the Scheduling Office's opinion of my sanity (they already know I'm a fruitcake), but the fact that it's wasteful of my time and disrepectful of the other departments I work for to continue to have me reserve and cancel rooms until the heat death of the universe.

A notion of which my faculty member seems Blissfully Unaware.

Honestly, some people's children.