A tennis ball

I'll hate to break the unofficial rule that I have been attempting to observe throughout the blog. I had declared a moratorium on posting personal matters on the blog: no point in putting the readers to sleep, I said. After all, this blog isn't intended as a substitute for valium. But you will understand that the current circumstances are indeed extenuating: I've got a couple of hours to kill right now - and If I don't keep myself occupied by blogging, the ennui would force me to commit suicide. (More fodder for an insurance related comment?)

I don't know if you've seen a tennis match. It's a match in which two well built people keep smashing a yellow ball at each other using netted sticks (like the ones we see people swat flies with). I always wondered what the ball felt like. I mean - hit here, hit there - surely can't be too good for the morale of the ball. But I believe that I am beginning to appreciate the sentiments of the ball - and I am beginning to empathize with it - the way my course and my assignments are being swapped around.

You see, personally, I am stuck in a rather ridiculous quagmire. But I'm not worried. I know the ending is happy. I was supposed to work as a lab instructor here. And, (I can see Peter smiling somewhere), the department overlooked the fact that people had a Fluid Mechanics course coincident on the same time slot. So, they moved the Fluid Mechanics class so that it coincided with my lab. Since I do not have some of the more desirable qualities that people associate Scrodinger's feline with - I was withdrawn as a TA from the lab. So, here I am - stuck literally - with no lab to go to. The professor who was supposed to assign me to someone. He said I'd grade. Ah, well. Less work - more time for courses. Can't be all that bad.

So, the upshot of the whole thing is that I have in excess of an hour to kill and I am running low on inspiration on how to. I reckoned I'd spend the time on blogging - but I type way too fast. I killed just ten minutes. Ideas to kill time would be appreciated: Ideas, anyone? (Now, I don't want any insurance related comments, mind you.)

So, in conclusion, you know I'm a tennis ball right now. Neither here not there. I'll tell you one person who'll agree whole heartedly. Dad. He was always quite emphatic that I was getting rotund (FAT) to the extent of getting spherical. Well, I am a sphere now.