Enduring day after day of confinement in my house following record-breaking cold and snow, I have but one request: get me outta here! I want to go back to work. The truth is, I love being at work, sometimes more than I like being at home, and I tread on thin ice by explaining myself.
At home, I have a vast collection of music and movies and books, although I don't listen to much music or watch many of my movies. I need the music loud, so I can hear it, on account of my horrifically bad hearing, even with my hearing aids in. Likewise with the movies. This tends to piss people off. The other thing is that I like music and movies in vastly different genres than my wife and daughter. I like science fiction and westerns and violent and sexy movies. My wife likes feel-good flicks. A diet exclusively of these is like eating only lettuce: sure you'd start losing weight but it gets old, and bland, fast.
And of course the mercurial, hypersensitive emotional condition of 15 year old females is a special treat to behold!
Then there are the dogs. They follow me around, which is fine mostly, but sometimes annoying. They're on my lap if I'm sitting in my tall and fat man's recliner, which is most of the time. I love them, and they love me. I get affection needs met with those two little lovable devils.
Of course, it's just my perspective, but it seems there's a continual (not continuous) stream of annoying things going on at home (here's that thin ice I mentioned earlier.) Something I'm doing or not doing or saying or not saying that I should or shouldn't be doing or saying, or something my daughter is doing or not doing or saying or not saying that she should be doing or not be doing or should be saying or not saying. I refuse to disparage my wife in any of that. I accept full responsibility for this observation, no matter it's delusional or accurate depiction.
At work, I have a great deal of control. I like having control. More control = less stress because more control = greater predictability. I know what's coming next, usually. I don't control all of it, though, and since absolute power corrupts absolutely, I don't want total control. Total control also spoils spontaneity.
I love teaching, and all that goes with it, except maybe committee meetings. But God how I love preparing my courses and lectures, how I love standing (or sitting) in front of a class of expectant vessels. I so love conveying the essence of something in a new and powerful way. I love discussing the nuances of some subject, exploring its depth, watching brows rise and eyes light up. What a feeling! I'm not sure I wouldn't give up orgasms for that to continue. Luckily, no such bargains need be struck.
I want to set up my office in special ways, perhaps to duplicate the best parts of my house: flat screen TV, great stereo, fridge, microwave, massage chair, etc. After I make a million, I will.
Now back to reading that preparatory text for the Psychiatric board exams. Unnecessary, but fascinating.
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