november 26, 2001. When I came in the door today I was exhausted, pissed and sick as hell. In this spirit, I wrote paragraph upon paragraph, detailing every bit of crap that flew my way today. And I knew that I could not publish it, that, ethical considerations aside, I cannot vent in a public forum without risking expulsion from the Good Ship Education. So I'm left with two paragraphs: Rotten, discouraging day today. I still haven't managed to recover from my cold, so I'm prone to sudden fits of deep lung-rattling coughing that leave me bent double & seeing stars. When I push myself physically, I crash with minutes. I can't speak above a whisper. And of course, I'm still kind of snotty. All of which means that I'm not physically equipped to fully engage in a grade seven classroom when that means getting in people's faces from morning to night. ... The other problem is that she occasionally slips into a mode wherein she treats me like a dim-witted grade 7 instead of a colleague...I almost lost a master handout today and I dreaded telling her; fearing that I would receive the same organization lecture she gives the kids. The bossiness is driving me up the wall, especially since I have my own fair share of bossiness. The trouble starts when our Lucy Van Pelt energies bulk up like storm fronts & clash into one another. When you stop & think about it, you probably don't want to hear all the mundane details of my field experience anyway. I'm doing you a favour, right. Everything in the house is just humming along today. We have a few essential groceries for the week and I will be hauling everything else up the hill in sections as the week draws along. Today I got out of the shower to the delightful sight of the Boy cooking scrambled eggs and sausage, as we had run out of cereal of all kinds. It was protein-licious and a fun little departure from our normal morning routine. In other good news, he is 7000 words away from finishing his novel, despite the fact that he has now taken back the mantle of breadwinner. With luck we'll have a novel and a paycheque in the family by this time next week. And despite all of the good stuff, I've been missing home fiercely. It's been 12 weeks; time for a vacation back in the land of Do As You Please. Unfortunately, there's 4 more weeks of grade 7 standing between me and irresponsibility. Isn't that always the way?? this time 2 years ago: the anamatronic midgets will make sure of that