By comparison.

The cardigan-clad sons of the t.v. people have gone back to college, and the singing snowmen have been packed up into empty liquor boxes and stuffed in dark attic corners.  Hallelujah!  Holiday cheer is out, and aching backs and sinusitis are in again!  The commercials have, once again, begun to focus on how miserable every one must be, and I, by comparison, feel like a lucky s.o.b.

(Speaking of commercials, wouldn’t diarrhea and profuse sweating make your social anxiety disorder worse?)

After what seemed to be an interminable bout with some sort of cold plague and some other sort of agonizing stomach pain, I am back up and running and feeling better than ever.  

I have stacks of ungraded papers to grade, piles of unfilled-out forms to fill out, lists of unresolved New Year’s resolutions to resolve, and several unstuffed envelopes from collectors of cash to stuff.  Somehow, I find that I am most confident and proficient when I am over-whelmed.  I function like the eye of a storm.  Within the storm, within the spirals of wheeling cows and Cadillacs, there is calm.  Without the storm, calm has no meaning.  I can’t find calm, unless I’m careening through demands.  This, ultimately, is why I can’t stop moving.