Wired for the First Day

The pigeons have entered Snow Mode; winter has officially begun in Boston.
It's the kind of day that makes me want to learn the campus tunnel system. The Weather Channel predicted rain all week--they were wrong. What could have been rain, what I had been planning for as rain has turned into one of those Boston snows that is sticky and wet and easily accumulating on one's clothing as one walks. The pigeons hunker down in their own appointed spots, like the way people do in their unofficially designated pews at church, and they just sit there, letting it all pile up on them until all you can see are pigeon shaped lumps. They have already congregated around the cold steel sculpture in front of Whole Foods, and others sit atop the Avis parking garage in a semi-circle. They are tough, survivors, and will sit there until the snow stops or they get hungry. The smaller birds, like the sparrow-y items that hang out in front of the restaurants have a different philosophy; they are in constant motion, fluttering, flying, pecking at each other, beating their wings to hoover mid-air. They seem to know that they're so small that if they stop, they won't start again. Kind of like me.
I didn't realize how long my hair had gotten until I saw the snow gathering on it. It felt alien, like a wig, and I stopped long enough to stare at it, brush it off, and remove the snow that was numbing my foot (I wore clogs to teach in, expecting only rain). I am now sitting in bed, Gregg the Laptop warming my icy thighs, ready for a nap.
As first days go, I've had worse. My first class is really quite fun, a good group of kiddos. They're mostly PT majors (hmmm. Free advice?) and they are 12 in number. My second class was a little less enthusiastic. Civil engineering and Criminal Justice majors, like my group from Spring 2004, mostly large guys who seem like former high school football players. Either they have a strict sense of decorum in the classroom, or are bored and unengaged as of yet. I was doing the Amy the Instructor thing, jumping around, making sneaky, underhanded comments that usually wake up students one by one, slowly, but this time I got nothing. Most weren't even interested in eye contact. Neither class had bought the book yet, even. Sigh
PhD update: Screw mailing today. It's going to take an army to get me out of this apartment and into that mess again, even if the post office is a mere half block away. If I wake up from my soon-to-be nap before 4 and get a jones for half-off Au Bon Pain pastries, I may trip my way down there. More than likely, I'll do it tomorrow. I promise.
Quote of the day, from bumper sticker seen in parking lot at the New England Conservatory: Eat Betty's Mussels.
Right. Sure. Why not?