Swamped

I have just risen after perhaps four hours of restless sleep; even if I think I'm relaxed, my body lets me know that I'm really a bundle of nerves.  I just took on a temporary position in an office with a 40-hour work week, an office run by a good friend of mine.  It promises a lot more money (as summertime jobs go) than my haphazard tutoring, but I'm anxious in a chicken-y sort of way about working a full-time job outside of any academic sphere while trying to keep up with my theory reading and article writing.  Yeah, I know, people do this all the time, I'll adjust.  But my eyes forced themselves open at 5:45 this morning, and no tossing and turning could convince them to stay closed.

I may have to rethink this entire tutoring business, assuming that this job really lasts through the summer.  After putting in a shortened day at the office yesterday -- I was called in on an emergency basis -- I had to claw my way uptown through rush hour traffic so I could tutor yet another out-of-it kid who scheduled a last-minute appointment in the two hours that I kept open for such things on Mondays.  I didn't get home until after 9:00PM, and I was beat.  This is clearly not how my day should go on a regular basis, if I have any ambition to read the library books in my possession or draft a good journal article.  One of the first thoughts that ran through my head as I lay in bed, uncomfortably awake, was dread that I would keep getting called to appointments filling up my evenings after a full day of work elsewhere.  Dread is bad, don't you think?