Yesterday I told my brother that this time of year is, for those of us who teach in colleges and universities, like tax time is for accountants. That means piles of papers that think you're shrinking until you stop for a minute and turn around. Then, like the brooms in Fantasia, they multiply.
And everybody's stories are getting longer. There are those students who, if they spent half as much time doing the work as they are in telling me why they've missed work. But they're not half as bad as those long-winded authority figures whose directives are growing longer. (How would the world be different if someone told Pinocchio that his directive was growing.) How would my life be different had I succumbed to a man whose directive was groing longer?
You know it's really late and I'm really tired if I'm asking questions like those!
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