I woke up.
Looks like you overslept.
I was having an incredibly realistic dream in which my wife had agreed that we could rent the extra bedroom to the neighbor’s babysitter Sara. Who is the cutest little thing you ever did see. At one point while we were talking in the kitchen, Wife said that we could even fool around so long as we did when she wasn’t home.
Next thing I knew was Cuervo licking the top of my head and my wife’s alarm going off.
Does the Spouse know you post on the board?
The President sleeps in the Lincoln Bedroom?
Yeah. And I even told her all about the dream later this morning. She thought it was hilarious. She said the only way I’d get near Sara anyway was in my dreams so…
Watch your back.
Sorry, guys. I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, went home and slept until this morning. Apparently, I was tired.
The SWAT team was there because a fight had broken out in the cafeteria. It was apparently “gang related,” and a weapon was pulled (I heard many different stories). What worried me wasn’t so much that a fight had broken out, or even that SWAT was called in. It was that the administrators’ attitude was “fuck, not again…” and that anything short of a call requiring SWAT intervention was given short shrift.
The kids knew they could get away with murder. The teacher hadn’t left very good lesson plans, and while I can usually keep a class quiet by telling stories about The Black Death, The Spanish Flu, or Why It’s a Bad Idea to go Rock Climbing Alone, they were climbing the walls within ten minutes.
The teachers there treated subs like pariahs. There was no company, no camraderie, and by the end of the day, I was ready to do something that might require SWAT intervention. I took it as a sign and stopped subbing with that district.
Oh, and no, it wasn’t the Jewish school. This was about three years ago, when I didn’t have a full time teaching job. I subbed at a couple of public districts, discovered that while I’m a decent teacher, I do not have what it takes to be a good sub. I do, however, have a long standing policy that anytime someone subs for me, I make sure there is a really good lesson plan, a backup lesson plan, and lots of chocolate.
Yesterday, I got a 5:45 am wake up call from the barn to say that my favorite horse was down. After two visits from the vet, we thought we were headed out of the woods (she had impaction colic). This morning, she was toxic and we had her put down. RIP Lady Belle.
I’m either going to start drinking or go shoe shopping. Maybe both.
How do I know its going to be a bad day?
My boss starts talking.
When I went out to my car this morning, it had a flat tire. I couldn’t get the lugnuts off by myself, but luckily one of my neighbors got them loose with a really long tire iron dealie. Only 20 minutes late for work at this point, I finally get my spare tire on and I am on my way.
A quarter mile down the road my spare went flat.
…and I knew today would be a bad day.
Yesterday I woke up groggy, tried to actually eat something for breakfast for once only to be rewarded by being late for work. I get in the car to drop off my girlfriend on my way to work and on the way I get slammed while trying to make a left by some asshole doing 65 in a 45 trying to beat the red light before it turns green again (or as he says, beat the green light before it turns yellow). Of course I hit him, despite being stopped at the time, and of course the cop believes him and I get cited for my trouble. I don’t have the money for repairs (I had liability insurance only, it was all I could afford) so my car is a total loss, despite being fixable and still able to be driven (though not legally without said repairs). I’m probably going to have to sign the title over to the tow yard tomorrow because I have no other option and can’t afford to let it sit in the yard another day.
…and that’s when I knew it would be a bad day. And in hindsight, yes, yes it was.
This morning I woke up tired. I stumbled into the shower, washed off, got out, got dressed. I was astonished that my son wasn’t up yet. Even at two years old, he still delights in waking at 5:30 and coming in to drag me out of bed. As I walked into his room, I smelled the unmistakable scent of poo. Yuck. Hmmm, to let him sleep in it or not? He needs his sleep, but he also doesn’t need a chapped butt. Ah, well, I thought. I’ll let him sleep - he hasn’t slept this late for several months, so he probably needs it.
I go back to the bathroom to put on my makeup. Eventually, my son wanders in with a big grin on his face along with a streak of poo. He’s been sticking his hands down his diaper and apparently had an itch on his face he just had to scratch. Shit. Literally. Before I can catch him, he dashes off, pretending to comb his hair with my comb. After chasing a madly giggling toddler through the house, I corner him back in the bathroom where he promptly tosses my comb in the toilet and attempts to flush.
That dealt with, I change his diaper (lots of protests), wash his face and hands and any other potentially-poo-covered body part, check the bed for poo, throw a load of laundry in the wash and head out the door. Only to remember that I have an 8 a.m. call. Who the hell schedules an 8 a.m. call on a Friday, especially on a Friday before a holiday? It’s 7:58. I get my phone, attempt to insert the earpiece into the phone and it doesn’t work. Why? Earpiece is mysteriously bent. So I get on the phone without it and wait and drive. Wait and drive. Finally, the person who organized the meeting gets on. We have a back and forth (actually not a terrible meeting). Toward the end, someone deliberately tries to steer me out of my lane. I’m going 65 mph on an interstate and they decide to drive at least 70 on the shoulder, regularly coming close enough to be just a few inches from the side of my car. I try to slow down to let them around. They keep sidling up to me even though I’m now going 40 mph so they can get around me. Freaking scary. I’ve set my phone down so I can concentrate (thank you, mute button - I was swearing). Finally the guy goes around me and gives me the finger. What?
I get to work. Then all hell breaks loose. Why did I ever wake up?
Not on the scale of EsotericEnigma’s ( 
), but I knew that yesterday would be bad when I sliced the bed of my right thumb open with the lid of the cat food can.
I was right. <insert urgent work situation + stomach flu>
Today I woke up two minutes late for an important meeting about yesterday’s work situation, to discover:
-
toe torn out of one slipper and the foam remains scattered across living room carpet
-
rotten, partially liquid onion that I didn’t know about (so that’s what that odd smell was yesterday) pulled out onto kitchen floor and half eaten
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two dog poops, one in hallway and one in spare bedroom
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three pees on the living room carpet
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one throw up on living room carpet, conspicuously containing foam and onion remains
Me, for one. And that tells you just how bad yesterday was all bleeping day, that I had to schedule an 8:00am meeting to follow up the 11:00pm meeting from the night before.
Oh, and either my MIL spilled her Hot Pockets on the stairs or one of the dogs barfed - I can’t tell the difference in appearance or smell. Fortunately I was able to clean it up before the very cranky and hung over husband stepped in it.
Aaaand, I have a fairly full work schedule today: I have to finish the business continuity (disaster) plan, do my focal review (ick), and I have a business requirements document (that I haven’t started) due on Tuesday.
Yet I choose to goof off on the Dope, ensuring a great weekend of Fun With MS Word.
Ugh. The first sentences I heard this morning were “I don’t mean to butt in…”, and “I don’t mean to micromanage but…” followed by requests for information and mind-numbingly obvious answers that I had already emailed him.