As Far As Today Has Gone…
What was annoying?
Getting up the second the alarm went off, getting ready for my first official day as a person who actually goes to work after a year (only part time) and is ten minutes late because of traffic. Three miles in twenty minutes is a problem. I am not someone who is ever late. Ever.
But what’s good about it?
Not getting pissed off about it. I got to work. All was well. And tomorrow, I’m taking another route.
What’s gross?
Realizing that the dark smudge and related four-foot streak across one of the only clean places left on the carpet this morning was caused by the dog who couldn’t take an extra minute to poop outside, so came upstairs, summarily parked her butt hole on the carpet, then proceeded to skooch forward using all four paws, removing whatever offending turdlett was hanging on for dear life. It worked. What a genius.
Where’s the proverbial silver lining?
Obviously not on the carpet. But the image of the dog dragging her butt hole is completely, side-splittingly HILARIOUS even though the spot remover didn’t quite remove the stain. The bottle lied. I’m an expert at lying carpet stain bottles. And in knowing that she doesn’t have worms or clogged anal glands.
What makes me want to rip my hair out?
After pulling off a B+ so close to an A in Algebra II during the first grading period this year, the RT has systematically worked to destroy his grade (okay, so it’s a B-) by not doing most of his homework because he doesn’t feel like it. He’s knows it’s more than strange that he’s engaged in this rather highly developed form of academic suicide, but hey! He’s good at just not thinking about it.
Why do I grit my teeth, grinning to bear the agony of this revelation instead of ripping his lovely brown eyes out of his skull?
He’s in more agony about it than I could ever be. Daily, he procrastinates, then doesn’t do the work and the routine begins again the next day. He must love the torture. Plus, he must love my rather lengthy and antagonizingly argumentative discussions about life and work and responsibility. And the concept of beginning to look for a job now that requires no degree and a cheap place to live while employed in said fashion. In San Diego, that would be a cardboard box.
And the bright side of this debacle is?
He gets this flat look about the eyes, like I have the calm audacity to suggest he will have to fend for himself in this world, and that he may not get it right. It lets me know I’ve gotten through. And then I get to tell him that he’d better figure it out because he only has about six years of math left to take in his life if he isn’t planning on the minimum wage job route. It doesn’t matter that he most likely will NEVER use any of the math he’s required to take, but you can all rest assured that at least with my kid, the good ol’ U S of A will have a chance to compete. You know. Mathematically. In the world.
Could someone tell Edwards for me please? He was sweating bricks over it during the minute or two I listened to the debate today on NPR.
Oh, and the RT completed his math while I wrote this, so clearly it’s not challenging.
Like I said. Torture.
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