Things go back to (almost) normal tomorrow, with the holidays really over and The Artist Formerly Known as the Boy going back to school. This mostly means that I will forget to pick him up. What? You cannot change my routine for two weeks and expect me to remember a completely random state-mandated 2:41. (This is another reason I could never teach high school. I would forget to show up.)
I’m kind of jealous. I have three weeks left of break, and I know I should be thankful because I have a feeling that this semester could rival Fall in terms of unbelievably sucking. Because I thought 18 credits, a death in the family, and redoing the house of the death in the family to give it to someone else, and only three more semesters of grades that count were bad. Ha! No! 18 credits, a death in the family that seems to be getting more difficult to deal with, redoing the house of the death in the family, have a parent go through a major medical issue and abdominal surgery, and only two more semesters of grades that count! Much worse!
That’s right. God just pwned me.
So I should take all the rest I can get. But I like school, I really do. When I’m not in class I feel weird and floating, like I should be studying for something or working harder or graduating faster but I can’t and that annoys me.
It’s weird, I’m weird, I know.
You will notice, however, that this fits in perfectly with my brilliant plan to never ever have to get a real job or exist in the world! That’s right. I may be impractical, but never let it be said that I was untrue to myself.