For a month now I've been thinking I should write a blog post about the things I ought to do this summer. It's often a good impetus for me to post my plans publicly. As I mentioned last night, though, my mojo has been MIA. Part of the list is work stuff. I'd like to submit two papers, both of which are pretty close to complete. (One will have to be given a thumbs-up by the co-investigators on the grant that funded it, but I'd like to get it into their hands, at least.) I'd like to collect a bit of data for two projects: one teaching-related project, and one that I'm presenting in the fall. In an ideal world I'd get that second set of results written up. I also need to keep the ball rolling on a project that will be my major research focus in the fall.
Then there are the teaching tasks: my summer class starts later this month, and I need to prepare my syllabus and course website along with lining up guest speakers. I'll need to get my fall syllabi and course websites together, and I need to spend some time reading about early cognitive development in preparation for a new class I'm teaching. That class will also involve a mix of lectures and hands-on stuff, and I know I'll be happier in the fall if I get the hands-on stuff roughed out early.
Finally, there's the administrative stuff: I've only completed one of the three peer reviews I agreed to do this month, and I have to prepare my materials for my fourth-year review.
Now that I've written it down, it seems less overwhelming. It's all good stuff; it's all stuff I like doing. I just need to keep at it instead of letting the brain weasels get me down. This week they feel more like brain polar bears, but I know they are really just weasels.
I have a separate ought-to list for the house, which is looking discouragingly shabby, and still another list for summer habits I'd like to work on (consistent email processing! advance planning!). And I really must get those pictures smacked into albums before the teetering stacks thereof tip over and trap me in my dining room like a gangrenous wolverine.
Probably a person whose brain is spouting off about gangrenous wolverines should go to bed already. Maybe I will feel better if I write about the house list tomorrow. Or maybe we can at least commiserate about old houses and their upkeep.