I forget how exhausting teaching is.

Over Christmas break, I had two glorious weeks to get enough sleep and think about something other than lesson plans or papers that need grading.

I reveled in the sunlight streaming through our house windows. When you arrive at school in the dark and leave school in the dark, you forget how uplifting sunlight in your own home can be.

Today was records day, a day when we were not required to be at school, but Matt and I went in anyway. I took Molly. She enjoyed chasing her ball about the classroom, eating the tissue paper from a kid's project that turned her tongue blue, and leaving two wet spots on the carpet (apparently she didn't know the bathroom procedures there).

Now tonight, Matt is working the concessions stand at the basketball game, as an advisor for the senior class which does not provide adequate compensation for the long and boring hours he's required to put in. Especially on a Friday night.

And I'm sitting here on the couch, with Molly laying at my feet and a lap warmed from Shadow who just headed to her food bowl. I find it hard to do anything productive; it was enough to get the dishes washed and put away. I know I'm tired when even reading a book sounds like work. I don't actually wish it, but if I had a job that didn't require so much brain output, perhaps I'd be a little more creative here at home.