100.4, and blessedly sinking...

I'm not quite feverish anymore, except in my commentary. My thermostat is a nice balmy 68, and I am no longer sweating to this temperature. The cat's on crack, and I've just told a student that the computer knows her so well that she should not put her name on her paper. It's sadly true, and we always ask students to remain anonymous. But I've always managed to say it a little more tamely than that. I look forward to actually sleeping tonight, instead of the up and down all evening. It will be nice if I ever get started. I've still got about ten first reads to go, but I've decided that I can't keep telling students that I enjoy their cheekiness, but that they will have to abandon it to the formal writing style required in the next draft. I doubt my supervisors like the word cheeky. I doubt my students think anything but that I am mocking them. I really can't be a teacher anymore tonight, and I will sleep in the hopes of getting more sane by tomorrow afternoon.

Tuesday, E is making gumbo. She is partially cajun, and I look forward to it. Then we plan to go lay down on the dotted lines down the middle of the road so I can prove to her that they are as long as I say they are. She doesn't believe me. We'll also feed carrots to prairie dogs, and make video tapes of tumbleweed in its natural habitat. It's better than our previous plan to abscond from school for the week in order to celebrate in New Orleans. We aren't that sick anymore. Yes, we're becoming much more rational as we regain our regular temperatures. I'm not sure what's going on around here, but there are five or six of us what are not quite ourselves. Which is to say, we're all going mad finally.

Good night.