Pausing at the base of the stairs

The first thing I did when I got to campus this morning was to retrieve my houseplant from the department office, where the administrative assistant has very kindly been caring for it during my sabbatical and summer break. This is it, then: the party's over and it's time to get back to work. 

The plant looks great, and so does campus, but I still regret coming back. My reluctance may have more to do with the marathon of meetings facing me this week, followed by matriculation that somehow got scheduled at 4 p.m. Friday (because we all know how much  everyone loves to get into regalia and listen to speeches at the end of a week full of long boring meetings).

I've worked hard all summer, but ten days before classes start I still have tons of work to do, in addition to all the meetings: cleaning my desk, finishing my syllabi, assembling course packs for my capstone students, and more. But already I'm having trouble focusing: I miss the grandkids and I'm worried about my dad (facing a serious health scare in Florida at a time when I can't get away) and I'm concerned about a colleague's health problems and I need to finish mowing the lawn, and in my current state of distraction, it's hard to discern which of those things needs attention first. 

Shoes, maybe? I desperately need teaching shoes, but when I stopped off at the Skechers outlet on the way home from my daughter's house the other day, I first delighted in finding the usual long row of wide shoes but then noticed the largest size available was 8. I haven't worn shoes that small since fourth grade. Time to do some online shopping.

But what about my dad? I need to call or arrange to visit or at least send a card, but I've already forgotten the name of his nursing home so I have to text my brother first, and then I look up the address and discover that my father, whose parents emigrated from Lithuania with empty pockets 100 years ago, is staying at a place called The Mayflower, located at 1620 Mayflower Place. I suppose it's better than steerage. I hope.

The only way I'm getting through this week is one step at a time, but which step comes first? I waver and wobble and hover at the base of the staircase, looking longingly at the top so very far away. How will I ever make it up there? (Maybe it would be easier with new shoes.)

The plants are doing fine. Now how about the rest of the office?