Happy, Happy Day

I’m a mean person to consider this a happy, happy day. The last of my teacher neighbors just left his driveway, and I giggle in glee. Yes, this is the day The Teachers Return To Work.

Oh, how I used to look forward to this day in anticipation. Eight o’clock meetings, with breakfast provided, catching up on everything my colleagues did over the summer break. Edward picked up a part-time job to get away from his six kids. Shelley spent the weeks at her parent’s home in Florida, basking on the beach. Maria slept late and otherwise enjoyed not paying daycare. Trudy communed with nature. Nancy traveled Europe (the bitch) to gain first-hand knowledge for her history classes. Sam spent his time catching up on all the ‘honey-do’ jobs he had no time for during the school year.

Okay, so I miss it. I miss the lesson plans, the camaraderie, the anticipation of new students, the wide-eyed innocence of the children, the ah-ha! when they get what you’re teaching. The power of knowing you impact a young mind.

This is the second beginning day I’ve missed since I went out on disability. I’ll never go back. Never again have the pleasure of seeing those faces, demonstrating musical instruments to a class, exulting in a well-performed concert.

This is a sad, sad day.


Backstabbing 101

Today, we’re going to learn a lesson in backstabbing. There’s a right way and there’s a wrong way.

Let’s call our two antagonists Person X and Person Y. They dislike each other. Have for years, but face-to-face, they are sweet as Momma’s Apple Pie. Sickly sweet. Honey dripping down your fingers sweet. Bleh.

Wrong way:

Instant Message: “Person C, did you hear the latest on Person Y? That bitch just told Person M that Person Q is now dating Person P and they’re doing the nookie. Damn her, I’m dating Person P and we got this thang going. How dare she spread lies to all my friends!”

Reply: “How many instant message boxes do you have up, Person X?”

Instant Message: “Bout ten. U?”

Reply: “Only one. Yours. Oh, and by the way, this is Person Y.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Never become so involved with ten different people that you don’t remember who you’re Instant Messaging. Ever.

Right way:

Instant Message: “Hi, Person B. How are you?”

Reply: “Fine, Person X. U?”

Instant Message: “Good, good. Umm, what’s up?”

Reply: “Well, Person B is now getting it on with Person Y, and Person N is dating Person G, who also is going out with Person Y. Other than that, nothing much.”

Instant Message: “Who is this again?”

Reply: “Person B.”

Instant Message: “Oh, well in that case, I don’t know what anyone sees in Person Y, she’s such a . . .”

So, what lesson did you learn today? Always make sure the person you’re talking to is not the person you’re talking about.

Stealth and the Highway

My Stealth is on again.  I noticed it the third time someone pulled their car out in front of me.

The first two were obvious flukes.  One did that rolling stop at the sign.  The frantic look in his eye as he juggled coffee in one hand and his cell in the other–a sight to behold.

The second one squeezed between me and an eighteen wheeler.  I prayed the truck driver didn’t put on his brakes as I switched lanes.

No, it was the third one that clued me in.  The one growing bigger in my rear-view mirror, until all I could see was hood. Big red hood. Yikes! I sped up to avoid a collision, hitting eighty in one-point-three seconds.

Why do car manufacturers do that?  I didn’t order Stealth for my car.  As a matter of fact, I requested the really shiny one so everyone on the road could see me.

Ummm, including cops.  Damn.

Why doesn’t my Stealth work when I need it?