Dear Governor Ducey,
I like that song, “Mama said there’d be days like this.” I sing it a lot. It makes me think of my mom who sang it happy and who sang it sad and sometimes it feels all days are like this. I woke up to trouble. Max was trying to undo a Lego construct while his Mini-Wheats sogged in milk. He won’t eat soggy Mini-Wheats. I had to pick him up and take him to the table where my own Mini-Wheats sat, sogging. As we ate our now soggy Mini-Wheats, and he cried about his distant Lego, I tried to answer a bunch of emails about that conference I told you I am hosting in October. Panel acceptances went out, as did rejections, and a lot of people were disappointed in the latter. I got a lot of emails about why their panels weren’t accepted and I had to say how sorry I was because I was sorry. I want everyone to come. The people who were happy about the former were excited to register for the conference but then the registration system was only working periodically and I emailed IT in a huge panic and they were busy with other problems and didn’t really know what the deal was anyway. As I emailed IT, I tried to set up the summer class I start to teach on June 1 which involved a lot of internet linking and date calculating which, as this bad-tech day was starting to go, I’m pretty sure ended up wrong. In the meantime, the contracts for the grant project had a math problem all over them which I went back and forth with the grants’ office to fix and finally someone said, it’s fine, this email will suffice as a corrective, to which I sent the most effusive letter ever about how grateful I was to her.
I had to pick Zoe up at 10:30 from school to take her to her AZ State Piano test so I took a shower and tried to print but I had no paper. I printed on my old dissertation paper—making the paper on the contract I’m signing worth more than the money forthcoming stipulated to be paid by the contract. When I came downstairs, Max had gotten the sandwich I made him out of the container and had somehow exploded it all over the living room rug, which is why I had to add “vacuum” to the list of things to do today (and, sadly, yell at Max, which I did, not too long, at least, and not for loud). We picked up Zoe, Max and I, and found the room with her test without too much trouble although I had to park without a permit, which made me jumpy. Then we went to Bookman’s to find Max a new rock book and all the rock books were too big or too small until we found “Rocks and Minerals” which was just the right size for a book but by then I’d found two new books for myself which I don’t have time to read or the money to buy but buy them I did and then Max wanted to go to Target to get a notebook so he could transcribe his new book (and where I got some cheaper, regular printer paper) which is fine except by the time I got home, I had to call IT, IM IT, email IT and answer forty-seven Facebook queries. While IT IM’d me, I tried to marinate the chicken for dinner but then the chicken leaked all over the fridge so I had to clean out the fridge which I just cleaned out yesterday. We had a few panelist queries too in the other other other inbox to figure out and prepare to send and then the budget office called to see if the invoices were correct, which they were but then we realized we hadn’t received the other pledged support and had to try to invoice for that before the budget lady left town for the next two weeks. IT IM’d back and said they thought they had a couple of thoughts on how to fix the problem so I tried again to register from my house for the conference of which I will be hosting and success! Register for my own conference I did. But then Max wanted the playdoh toys which are as old as I am, almost, since they were mine, and I got them out by the mechanics were gummed up with old Playdoh. I tried to scrape out the stuck-on playdoh with a skewer but the skewer was stronger than the plastic and now the toy is broken but I’m still washing out the old playdoh because water fixes everything.
I had big plans to send out a lot of writing today because May 15th a deadline kind of day but instead I’m on hold with IT, sending a message to a potential panelist on Facebook, and helping Zoe pack for her Grand Canyon camp while Max writes out the Moh’s Scale of Hardness in his new notebook. I got the baby powder to show him talc. Now at least we all smell good but now our clothes are covered in white.
And then, I had the third sign of the week of the apocalypse, after the 100 strikes of lightning in 30 minutes Wednesday night and snow last night (in May!), a duck walking through my back yard. I don’t have a pond in my backyard. Lost ducks. Perhaps I can offer them some baby powder to dry their wings as they mistake the falling sky for a lake they can swim in.