I am exhausted, sitting here on the couch, slowly grading papers while E. watches the Wisconsin game. Stayed up much later last night than intended, dancing with D. and S. and E. to Eminem (around the kitchen table, oh yes) and drinking champagne. Random? Roast turned out well: better than well. The four of us ate all of it, and kept wishing another roast would regenerate from the coagulated drippings. For real. Today, I am still wishing there were another roast, though there are plenty of leftover sweet potatoes.
Dishes stacked in the drainer, dark kitchen. A very physical football game. Woodsmoke smell wafting from another direction. A goal of three more papers tonight. A goal.