Some weeks are full of disappointments.
I overheard a couple male colleagues talking about their wives the other day in the hallway. I felt like I'd been transported in time to overhear a conversation between male faculty members in the 50s. Disappointing. When I was young, I had hopes that my generation would do things better. On average, I'm disappointed.
I tried to teach "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso" today. Emphasis on tried. I thought I had a brilliant way to introduce the concept of writing in utramque partem (arguing both sides of an issue), but, alas, the class proved otherwise. I still find Altman's Tudor Play of Mind useful! So there! These are great poems, but I just didn't do them justice today. I get another shot on Friday.
I worry too much about some things, way too much. I expend endless energy stupidly worrying or being angry about things I can't change. I should know better, but I disappoint myself.
Snow in April. I surprised myself by being unsurprised, but I'm still disappointed. I'm so tired of being cold! I got more seed today for the local birds, and threw some on top of the snow so they'd be able to get at it easily. Several juncos were eating already when I left this morning, fluffed out and a bit wind-blown, but I got home too late for any birds to be out, alas.