Tuesday is a LONG day. I have both an afternoon class and a night class. I always teach a night class during the spring semester, on Thursday nights, but for several years, it has been a graduate class. This semester, I have an undergraduate class on Tuesday evenings. Fortunately, the quality of the students is pretty high, but the class is new to me and enrollment is pretty large (30). It has been going OK so far, but last night, I was totally fried when it was over. This is the second time that has happened this fall. The content of the class was draining. This used to happen to me sometimes after my night class when I taught on campus, pre-COVID-19, but it has been a long time since I felt this way. It sort of has flowed into today as well. I think I need a break to recharge, but unfortunately, that ain't happening.

Again last night, I had a dream featuring my father. He was younger in this one; his hair was black. Looked good, but not totally like himself (he had glasses with heavy dark frames that he would never wear). I knew he was well and that made me happy, but there was something weird: He couldn't speak at all! He had a laptop with what seemed to be a Tractor Supply ad on the screen, and he was pointing to various pieces of equipment that were pictured (such as lawn tractors) and even kissing the images!

On Sunday, I visited the cemetery for the first time since his service on January 13. I miss him so much and was apprehensive about how I would feel. But it was not as hard as I envisioned. I have worse episodes looking at his picture or just thinking about him. His grave site looks good, the monument company already carved the date in his stone, Bob planted daffodils, and I was glad I went.