Unwired to Teach

This is one of those times when the little angry voice in the center of my brain radiates outward, telling me that I should be sleeping, or at the very least, be doing something constructive. Instead, I'm sitting in a very nonergonomically correct position on my bed, trying to dispell last minute anxieties about teaching.
Why I have these anxieties is itself a puzzle. I am a competent teacher; my students think I'm weird, but things usually turn out okay. I just feel like I'm forgetting something.
Saw a squirrel today. Two of them, actually. Considered chasing them, but then gave up that thought. Too early in the semester.
Which brings me to my Sex and the City quote for the day: A squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit.
I want to be a squirrel, not a rat.

PhD update: Finished my purpose statements for remaining colleges. Finally removed strange phrase on my mirror which said: Find 200-500 word purpose. Apparently I have found said purpose in life, and it is around 350 words.
Most obituaries are about the same length, so I guess it all evens out eventually.