Quin gets the archives and establishes his routine

Red was good to his word. When Quin returned to his office around noon after teaching his class he found a manila envelope leaning against his office door. Across the envelope twenty five years ago Red had scrawled in permanent black marker in all caps “Archives of the Appendix Historical Society.”
Quin smiled to himself as he bent over to pick up the envelope. As he picked up the envelope he found a short note attached with a paper clip to the back, “Quin the Society is so pleased that you have agreed to write this paper. It is going to be fabulous.” The note was signed, “Red Wilson.”  

Quin took the manila envelope containing the archives and threw it in his brief case. When he returned to his apartment that evening he took the envelope out and then sat it in a corner next to his ancient computer that had no connection to the internet. There it sat until February.

Early on Saturday of that week Quin woke to his phone ringing persistently, he walked groggily over and answered with a big yawn, “Hello.”

“Hello Quin it’s your granddad, Red Wilson.”

“Hey Gramps, what’s up?”

“Sorry for calling so early. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I’ve been up for awhile I was just getting out of the shower. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got great news Quin, we had a special meeting of the Society last night and I gave them the good news that you had agreed to accept the assignment to write the history. They were all really excited, and then we had this idea that we should hold a special celebration for the unveiling of the history. So we are going to host a banquet and a dance to celebrate.  Isn’t that fantastic?”

“Yeah that’s great news gramps.” Quin responded automatically and then a brief panic set in as he fully realized what Red was saying. “When is this going to happen?”

“Well that is why I am calling we have a couple of dates in mind and I just wanted to call and find out what will work for you.”

Red let Quin know the different dates for the banquet the following February. As far as the dates went any of them were good with Quin whose social calendar was completely wide open for the following year. He was about to let Red know that any of them would work when he decided it would simply be best to pick the latest date. That date would give him the most time to procrastinate or as he explained to Red, “That way I will be sure to have all the time I need to do research and time to fact check and revise my first draft.”

Red was gleeful, “This is just fabulous Quin. This is fabulous. It is going to be some night. I can hardly wait.”

“Yeah gramps it will be some night. Well gramps I better get going so I can get started on my research.”

“Yeah I don’t want to keep you from your work I know how busy you are.”

After Quin hung up he immediately returned to bed were he slept on and off until noon.

Over the second week of school Quin established a pattern of getting up around seven drinking some decaf, driving to school prepping for about thirty minutes and then teaching his classes. He could have lectured on the Great Gatsby in his sleep. He was entirely bored by the book, but he had already prepared these lessons when he was a grad assistant and literature seemed like his calling. So though he was bored he was content to coast along on these lessons.

The class was obviously already bored by his lectures as well and any attempts at drawing out discussion from them had fallen flat. They were more than content to just coast along with Quin taking notes on his regurgitated lectures, assuming that they would have to regurgitate the same facts on an upcoming test. In this assumption, they were of course entirely correct.

Through the early afternoon Quin would pretty much vegetate in his office, just waiting for Jack to swing by for their afternoon jog around campus to the field. The run was already becoming somewhat easier and Quin was pleased when he stepped on the scale to note that he had lost a couple of pounds already. Quin had to admit that he was enjoying practice and watching some of the young pitchers begin to get some of the mechanics. His lessons were already paying dividends in their ability to hit the strike zone, and in their ability to throw without their arms hurting the next day.