The Chronicles of Dr. Crazy

Well, the black eye develops further, and it occurs to me that this affliction will be nothing but good for my weekend, as I can't imagine venturing forth into public looking as I do. That said, here is what I hope to accomplish over the weekend:

1. Get emissions test done on car.
2. Take care of renewing car registration.
3. Grocery store.
4. Print out diss to send off to publisher (I got my formal invitation to submit yesterday).
5. Call diss adviser, who never responded to my email (grrrr).
6. Write summary letter reporting on my activities during summer fellowship that's due next week.
7. House-cleaning.
8. Prep for next week's classes.
9. Some sort of scholarly activity - not sure what at the moment, but I'm sure I have something I'm supposed to be reading or writing.
10. Begin work on tenure book which is due at end of Sept.

Now, I realize 1-3 will take me into public, but I've got to do those things regardless. Other items on the list may/may not be completed, but I think I could complete them if I'm feeling really motivated. Additionally, I'll have to make time for icing swelling purple flesh surrounding my eye socket.

By the way, my pseudonymity is pretty much a joke now, as how many college professors are currently sporting black eyes?

I think that I may teach my students summary today by telling them the story of my injury. That could be fun. Or I could make them interview me regarding my injury.... Hmmm.... If I could work this whole thing into a teaching aid I think I'd feel much better about it.

I talked to Freud briefly last night, so briefly that I've got nothing to report. He finds it hard to believe that I actually have a black eye as I did not hit my eye on the railing but my forehead just above my eye. If he sees me this weekend I think that it will be the true test of his undying love for me, as I look like a madball. (Remember those?) Incidentally, I did not report yesterday that after the freakish self-injury, as I sat there icing my head, the conversation took another turn and Freud indicated that he fears he's not very good at sex. I know what I was supposed to say was "oh, you're the greatest!" or something like that, but it's not really in my character to say things like that. I feel like he was fishing for compliments or something, and so I'm sure my response ("Why are you worrying about that?") only served to make him more radically insecure. I think Freud is neurotic and perhaps I should stop hanging out with him altogether. He is far too intimidated by me to come out of it, I fear. And I don't think I'm particularly intimidating, honestly. It's all in his head.

So, wish me luck for a good and productive weekend and for the eye to begin looking better rather than worse!