New shoes and notebooks

Something always seems off when the week starts on Tuesday (though I recognize the joy this brings to many cubicle-bound drones and other worker bees). But for me... I feel behind already, and it is a scary week. The whole pomp(pous) and circumstance rigmarole begins to churn on Thursday and the dreams in which I have to teach a class on who-knows-what (though the dream students are thoroughly prepared) once again roll into dreamland on a regularly scheduled basis. Scary.

Today's Dickinsonian oracle soothes the professorial soul thusly:

If What we could - were what we would -
Criterion - be small -
It is the Ultimate of Talk -
The Impotence to Tell -
(E. Dickinson, 540)