How Teaching Makes Me Crazy
It's no secret that this week has not exactly been my best ever.
In the first place, my lips are so chapped that I would not be offended if more people began our conversations by asking about my recent trip to the Sahara. In addition to the chapping, I've just this morning developed a minor fever blister on the inside ridge of my upper lip, low enough to be just out of sight, but in the prime location to throb every time I speak (which in my profession is practically all day. Yet another reason that I am happy to be administering a test right now).
And while we're on the subject of my profession, let me state for the record that although I do love my job (in a general sense) there are days that working with teenagers begins to fray my already delicate psyche. More than one of my students has developed a brand of "logic" so convoluted and mind-boggling that sometimes it's a wonder that when they talk to me, my ears do not suck themselves back into my head on command.
Last night I arrived home from work in full crash mode. I'd had a difficult afternoon, a long wait at the chiropractor, and traffic troubles on the drive home. My plan was to get dinner cooking on the stove and then get my mind off of my day with Patricia Cornwell's Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper - Case Closed (which actually turned out to be less relaxing than one might think).
I set the water to boil for pasta, threw some pre-seasoned chicken into a pan, and grabbed a snack out of the pantry. While looking around to locate my book, my eyes scanned the far wall and saw... a woman standing in my living room, clutching a box in her hands!
I jumped back, and so did she! O_0
Then she nearly dropped her Triscuit box, and I realized that I was looking in the full-length dining room mirror.
Perhaps I should have gone to bed right then, but of course I stayed up until nearly midnight.
And then when I did sleep, I dreamed of Walter Sickert.
Spring Break can't come soon enough.