I sent out five job applications Monday, out of 13 listed in the current iteration of the Spreadsheet of Death™. All five to liberal arts colleges, many of which probably aren’t even competing for the “early offers” candidates on the market, the folks who really, really want a job at a PhD-granting institution but would “settle” for a 2–2 at a liberal arts college if the money and geography were right. Alas, the job with the description that fits me to a “T” (seeking an Americanist mass political behavior scholar with demonstrated successful experience teaching undergrad methods from a rigorously quantitative approach) is probably the one most disinclined to hire someone with a PhD from a state more associated in the popular (or at least liberal professoriate) imagination with cross-burning than ivy; such is life.

Mind you, I haven’t even started my next job yet. I don’t even have to do anything with my new job for six weeks—that is, except for some syllabus prep that I could have done in six weeks, but needed to do now so I could include my fall syllabi in my application packets.

In any event… back to letters, boxes, research, being on hold with Laclede Gas, and sleep.