Crumbs on the Mousepad

I never thought working from home would turn me into such a slob. In fact, I thought the opposite would be true - I imagined my stay-at-home position would afford me ample opportunities to take vacuuming and laundry breaks, and that I would be sitting at my computer in a pristine and tranquil environment filled with scented candles, my dog lounging lazily by my side. Not so. Instead, I find myself at the computer from sun-up to sun-down, wearing the same assortment of workout attire and pajamas each day, grabbing food from the kitchen and eating it at the computer when I am hungry, pausing only to transfer the pile of dirty dishes that has accumulated next to my computer to the pile of dirty dishes strewn both in and around the kitchen sink.

That's right - the work-from-home lifestyle is slovenly and unglamorous. In an effort to avoid letting myself go completely, when I do take breaks my number one priority is to exercise. I have recently begun running again, since I've stopped having migraines and stopped having the even more alarming chest pains which accompanied the migraine medication I was taking. I also attend spinning classes at the local gym, which provide a nice intense-cardio alternative when the weather is too icky (as it often is) for any outdoor romping. But the type of exercise I most frequently and consistently engage in is dog-walking. In many ways, this is not by choice. I own a Vizsla, which is considered a "high energy" breed of dog; I like to think of him more as a furry, four-legged ADHD child with no access to ritalin. Try grading a paper with a 50 lb. beast dropping toys at your feet, writhing around against your legs, trying to climb into your lap, and staring at you intensely with a look that says "throw me the ball, throw me the ball, THROW ME THE BALL!!!" So we walk. And we play catch. And after sufficient exercise he goes back to sleep and I can resume my post at the computer.

Sometimes when I am grading papers I try to imagine which American Idol judge my feedback style most resembles. When a student submits a paper that is barely legible but displays earnest effort, I feel like Paula, coming up with the most vague sorts of praises in order to say at least one positive thing: "The great thing is, you know who you are." Sometimes a student shows considerable improvement from his or her previous writing attempts, and I feel like Randy Jackson: "Dude, check it out. So listen, I wasn't crazy about your last performance, but you know what? That was smokin' hot, baby. Dooooogggg!!!" Other times, I feel overly-technical, like Kara: "There were a few subject-verb agreement problems in the first portion, and your topic sentences could use some revising. You were really on-point in the second portion, though. Good job." And then, some students do everything so perfectly that their lack of need for criticism renders me speechless, like Simon when he looks at someone with that disdainful expression, shrugs, and says, "There's really nothing to say, is there? It was absolutely brilliant."

Which reminds me, I need to try to get my work done so I can spend two hours watching American Idol tonight.