december 17, 2001. Odd day today. I was up late last night with Hermione, and then there was a consoling phone call with Palaver, and with one thing and another I wasn't in bed until midnight. The Boy woke me up at 5:30 with his happy singing & I thought about calling in sick. An interesting thing has been happening to me these last five weeks (interesting in a gruesome sort of way, I mean): I usually carry all of my stress in my belly, which disrupts my digestion something awful...but I've been so stressed that my belly has subcontracted out a portion of the ailment, and I've been getting terrible knots in my back as well as horrible stomach pains. Ha ha ha. This is what happens when a high-strung girl gets into a brutal situation. (That just might be January's tag-line, come to think.) But I got up, got dressed & went to school with a high head (if not a happy heart). My teacher asked about my weekend and all I could do was grimace and mutter that it had been terrible. To my immense relief, she was also troubled all weekend and had arrived today with fire in her eyes. We are on a mission now, and the mission is to fix this classroom situation so that I can get the review I deserve. Having her in my corner lifts 40 pounds off my back. I slogged through the day with minimal bad temper (which on 5 ½ hours of sleep is a nice achievement), and left as soon as I could at the end of the day. On the way up the hill I was sunk in self-pity, and although I wasn't crying or muttering or anything like that, I was definitely vacationing in the land of This Is Not Fair (a place where adults should limit their bookings if they want to stay sane). I noticed this weird commotion going on up the hill: there was a slumped figure in a wheelchair and a grocery cart, and it all seemed to be causing much confusion for passing drivers who wanted to turn down the laneway. When I got closer I could see that it was a man in a motorized wheelchair who had dragged a half-full shopping cart of groceries up the hill behind him, and now was having trouble managing a turn with the cart. (A teenager was holding the cart, and I stood around for a few moments like a goober until I figured this all out.) I offered to push the cart home for the man, and he told me his address with a communication board. As we raced along the street together, I slowly began to realize what amazing physical strength it must have taken to get the cart even halfway up the hill. I was panting like a dog after a few minutes of pushing, and although I'm not as fit as I could be, I do pass my physicals. By the time we got to his house I was convinced that this moment was the justification for all the ethical systems ever created: you learn the rules so that when it comes up you can either do the right thing or you can think about the right thing as you walk on by. Anyway, the self-esteem I gained from this encounter may be cheesy, but it's something to hold onto on a day when you're worried about a teacher's examination. As the Björk song goes, "there's more to life than this." this time 2 years ago: A few told me I looked like the Wicked Witch of the East, post-house.