The Rime of the Ancient English Professor

So I'm sitting in my office trying to finish grading the last couple of composition essays when suddenly, without warning, the power goes out.

What to do? I need to get the papers graded before the weekend so I can get out of town and see the grandkids, but my laptop no longer runs on battery power and I have to stay close to my office in case the fix-it dudes show up so I sit in a chair out in the hallway and plug the laptop into the wall and try to continue grading despite the fact that people keep stopping to chat, and then a student comes by to ask me to fill out a reference so she can volunteer at the local hospital, which I am happy to do except the form is due the next day so I promise to fax it in right away, but when I try to do that I discover that the ancient fax machine in our department office has been possessed by demons and sits like an albatross around our necks serving no purpose but to remind us of the futility of all human endeavor. (Coleridge could make a poem about that but I'm not Coleridge so don't get your hopes up.)

So I'm scrambling around trying to find the email address of the volunteer coordinator so I can send over a scan of the reference form before the end of the day when the fix-it dudes show up to restore power to my office, but by this time I need to hie me across campus while gripping a rapidly disintegrating umbrella so I can cheer on my colleagues who are receiving awards at our annual Founders Day Celebration. My applause may be a bit damp, but it's definitely heartfelt.

And all this on a day when problems seem to pour down like rain all around me. At one meeting, I'm held up as an example of what's wrong with our college (really? harmless little me?), and at another I watch as a colleague dashes out of the meeting in tears because of a scary (but probably unfounded) rumor. My daughter calls to report that one of the grandkids has a fever but the Covid test was negative so I may want to reconsider my plan to visit this weekend, except I really don't want to reconsider because next weekend is impossible and I haven't seen the grandkids since Christmas and I really need to get out of town, but what if the Covid test was a false negative? 

And the rain keeps falling and the wind keeps blowing long into the night, and this morning we awake to a wet debris-strewn world. Our new roof escaped damage and the driveway isn't under water, but many low-lying areas along the Muskingum River are suddenly part of the river. It's a bit disconcerting to see my car's headlights reflecting on water where no water is expected to be. 

But I am now safely back in my office, equipped with full power and a functioning umbrella, and all I have to do before I can leave town is grade those last few composition essays and teach four classes and prep Monday's classes and get an update on the sick grandkid (just in case!) and hope that by midafternoon I'll be heading out of town. If not, I'll have to drape that albatross around my neck and wander around obsessively telling my tale of woe to anyone who will listen--starting with you.