Stop this train

Just when we thought we slid by cold and flu season without getting noticed, Mark brought home something nasty. I was working out of town for three days at the end of last week, so I missed the worst of the groaning, moaning and near death experiences that are part of the male species' DNA when it comes to illness. I also apparently missed the same bug going around my office. So I'm thinking of taking myself to the spare bedroom and not coming out until June.

Speaking of going into a room and not coming out, I have decided I need a sabbatical. A hiatus. A period of rest. Academics do it - take a year or a semester off to rest, write a book, study abroad, regroup. The sabbatical year is not a new thought. Among the ancient Jews, during the seventh year the land and vineyards were to remain fallow. Really, I don't want to curl up in the fetal position. I have plenty of creative ideas in my head. I just don't have the energy, the margin, to do any of them and keep up with my income-producing day job. There needs to be a foundation that gives grants equal to one's annual salary to women who need a year to remain fallow. I'm ready for that year.

Pardon the change in metaphors, but where do I get off this train?


"Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train" John Mayer

Photos from Steven Brisson on Flickr