The Penultimate Straw

Finally submitted the outline for my assignment to greet my poor tutors first thing on Monday morning. It has been exceedingly difficult to concentrate on my studies while the number of teaching and other duties at work seemed to multiply. During January and February I spent night tossing, turning and, perchance, dreaming of my studies. In March my white nights have been courtesy of work.

I love work. I love to work. In fact, two weeks into a holiday I tend to get unbearably restless, undefined, as if my outlines are blurred. Work defines me. But work, Work, The Work, does not steal my sleep. The barrage of over-and-above my usual beyond-the-call-of-duty workaholic endeavours has just been too much recently. Added to teaching, course development, preparing for presentations and, oh yes, my studies, it left me depleted, and I have been wandering campus like a ghost all week.

But here’s the thing. It wasn’t the last straw. When I adamantly deliberated to withdraw, one colleague was kind. One was compassionate. Another was gentle. Another funny. Another helpful. Another generous. Most were harmless, which is generosity enough. Although our department is not a wonderful team, we are a collection of wonderful individuals.

That makes up for a whole lot of straw.