Working Hard

I'm getting so much done during these weeks when I am off-campus -- I finished my novel; I proofed another novel (not mine, but really good and a lot of fun -- look for Unraveling Timelines, this fall); I have written about two-thirds of what I think is going to be a novella.

I've also planted a garden, made inroads on the dreadful wilderness that has been my yard for the past five or six years, sorted and alphabetized all my books, moved those we plan to donate or sell into storage, and reduced (some of) the chaos in the house.

All this, of course, while the USA fragments and collapses around our ears. (I'm not watching any news, though I now have subscriptions to both the NYTimes and the Washington Post.)

Nicole and Maggie asked, a few weeks ago, how people felt about their jobs -- whether they felt they needed to work in order to have purpose and structure in their lives, or whether (if, for instance, Universal Basic Income ever becomes a reality) they would be just as happy and productive without having to work for a living.

I seem to be much more productive when I don't have daily classes to teach, and papers to grade. I don't know if this is because it's only for these seven weeks; or if the effect would last.

I wouldn't mind finding out, though. (We can dream!)