Sometimes, in my season of grading forty essays in two days, I feel that by the end of the afternoon, my brain is hanging out the back of my head. It’s an odd image; I know. But there it is–I can feel it. My brain sort of dangles out, unspooled, in tresses. And then, as I rest, it starts to coil up again, until it retracts itself to its housing.
I described this to James, poor man. I said my brain was out, and that I was going to soak it in a bath. He nodded. “What you mean,” he said, “is that it’s giving you a stress mullet.”
Yes. Yes, that it is exactly what I mean. This is why I married him.
(Originally posted January 24, 2018)