At some point last evening, I began clicking the refresh button on my computer over and over again on the BC Portal. I was looking, as were many other people, if Facebook is correct, for word that Boston College had cancelled its classes. I have two classes on Wednesday: two classes that I love. Both professors are always well-prepared and incisive, the class discussion is intelligent, and the material is relevant for everything I want to do when I grow up.
But I still wanted both classes to be cancelled. Of course, I talked a good game in the run-up: I would work on papers, prepare readings in advance, spend a bit of time on my homily if they called off school. But…
I knew that I really wasn’t going to put all that much effort into any of it. I just… wanted the day off. I wanted to do a lot of nothing.
Now I know this isn’t a very nuanced view, but for some reason, this speaks to me of original sin, insofar as it suggests I desired what I knew wasn’t best for me, but rather what I thought to be easiest.
And the worst part? I delighted in not doing much of anything today, other than checking some email, having a few beers with a great friend, and shoveling snow.
Now, I’m writing this blog post, wondering where the time went and considering if a whole lot of nothing today was worth it.
And I think it was. The acedia of our first parents rears its head again.