Clearly I was totally drained from the first three weeks of teaching this term, and I could barely make it through the section of Meyer that I had hoped to read. I don’t really know where the day went, and now at dinner time I am ready for bed! But as always with Meyer, the reading vacillated between pretentious anglocentrism, sleep-enducing droning, and fascinating tidbits about Ibsen. I can’t bear his translations of Ibsen’s letters, reviews and poetry. This was perhaps not my best choice for my first day working from home since the semester began, but it had to be started.


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