Qwacking up

Four and a half more hours to go and the weekend begins. Before Christmas, I was pretty sure that I could strike a balance between cycling and working, and I'm still feeling pretty confident about it, but I am not going to lie: this may be the first time in my life when I actually wish I were married, because it would be SO much easier to have someone to help out with...stuff.

Four and a half more hours. Two with the perfume pump people - one fun hour, one grind hour. Mabel, who uses most of her class to talk about the problems of her life. (How much do shrinks make an hour?) And then the kids, who are 12 and 13 and going through puberty and are VERY sulky and who turn me off the idea of teaching kids forever. Alfonso's not bad (how can you not like a thirteen-year-old who likes Henry James?) but I could slug Guillermo for being such a sulky little sod. So it inevitably happens that my mind starts wandering: Can I still make my reservations for the Clásica de Bilbao? Is SugarLopez gonna show up this week, and why hasn't he been out since early December - did he really gain that much weight? And is The Oik not coming out because of me or because he's so out of shape?

I teach and my mind starts wandering towards cycling. I cycle, and my mind doesn't always veer off towards teaching, but it does sometimes. Am I qwacking up? That's the last thing I need - to qwack myself.