I got up around 9 am. When Elsa and I walked out to the driveway, there was Scott. Yvette had him install a camera on the driveway to monitor comings and goings. She had an incident when someone cut the wire on her motion sensor light, and then the other night, I thought I saw a flashlight in the backyard after 11 pm. The next morning, one of Yvette’s sports bras was missing. Yes, I’m sure. When I hung them the Bikram stuff on the laundry line, I remember counting: three bottoms and three tops. The next morning it was three bottoms and only two tops. Scott suggested I put in a motion sensor light for my back yard. If I buy it, he will install it. Good suggestions. It makes me feel better already.
When I got home from my walk, I remembered a dream I had last night. It certainly wasn’t a nightmare. I dreamt I had talked to a group of people about my teaching methods and was received positively. I don’t remember all the comments. But the first person who stood up recognized that the technique was different from what is currently being used now. Also, there were no negative comments. However, if I don’t get this book finished, probably no one will ever learn about it. I’d rather play FreeCell. Oh, well.
Negative comments will abound, I assure you. I once gave a talk at an ELL conference on a different approach to teaching pronunciation. The room was packed; no one left, and more people came in and stayed. One person called out how she could apply this method when teaching Spanish. However, there was one man who yelled at me. I don’t remember what he said, but I do remember it was an attack on the method. I do realize it was his problem, but his attack had an outsized effect on me. I don’t do well with virulent verbal attacks.
I looked around my house and saw only mess and disorder—time to start organizing. I started by sweeping up the bits of paper littering the library floor. As I alphabetized the books, I pulled out all the bookmarks Mike left behind when he shelved the book forever. Sweeping them up made a considerable difference. Then I selected a box to collect notes Mike had saved from whatever. The ones that got thrown in the box today were his Latin and Greek study notes from 1993. I can’t imagine Sandor will want them, but it’s not for me to decide. He can throw them out as easily as I can.
I moved a box with two pairs of hiking boots and two pairs of sneakers that have been sitting unused in my study closet for the last 4 years to the trunk of my car. To that, I added ten of the twenty polo shirts I recently found. I will drop everything off at The Friendly Place for the homeless tomorrow.
I spent a good part of the day going through the bookshelves in the library, looking for the books left on the list. I found one more. I may have already sent many of the books I’m looking for and not crossed them off.
I contacted John Coughlin today, saying I’m ready to contact more seminaries for additional lists. I plan to send out the offer to one seminary and wait until they have selected the books they want before sending out an offer to the second seminary. That way, they both won’t be looking at the same list of available books simultaneously. When the second has submitted their list, I will contact the third seminary. I have devised a system of keeping them separate using color-coding.
Finally, I started looking at books that I could take down to the half-price bookstore. We have picture books that we never looked at. I found about 20 books right off. I have to call the bookstore tomorrow to find out what days I can bring them in. They no longer accept books seven days a week. Mike would not be happy with what I’m doing, but I’m not one to keep things around I don’t use, at least I’m not anymore.
When I was in grad school in Wisconsin, a friend helped me move my possessions. His comment was, “I wouldn’t mind moving all these clothes if I ever saw you wearing any of them.” I saved rags at that time. I started throwing away a ragged garment a day. I live a leaner life now. I compensated for it by marrying a hoarder. The difference between me and Mike is that he was a committed hoarder; I just couldn’t get rid of whatever I had.
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