When I walked in to teach my freshman Humanities class today, I had flowers waiting for me as an anniversary present. Flowers are terrific, but flowers accompanied by a card bearing Greek and Milton– that’s just hot.

I swear I’ve been living on campus for the past few weeks. If I’m not teaching or preparing to teach a class, I’m meeting with students, or contending with administrative snafus, or listening to fossilized academics go into too much detail about their sundry ex-wives, or panicking about my dissertation proposal, or trying to slip away from conversations with part-time sociologists. Um, what got me into this career? I can’t remember.

On the upside, kitty is tube-free and is eating heartily. In fact, he’s eating so heartily that he’s about to eat us out of house and home. So Christian, the esophagostamy tube is yours should you still desire it, though I must say, I think tube-feeding wouldn’t please you after all. First of all, it’s a downer that you can’t taste the ice cream; and second of all, it’s impossible to put an Omaha Steaks lobster tail down that thing. Especially if your judgement is in any way impaired. Trust me. I’d know.