- My eighth grader's assistant principal announced on the intercom that students are not allowed to congregate in groups of three or more. I'm honestly not sure how they're going to enforce that one. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's because the school is a global studies magnet, and this is a way of studying what it would be like to live in a communist country.
- Rhett evidently swallowed a gerbil. He keeps clearing his throat every minute and a half or so. He's only sitting three feet away from me. Can you tell I get easily annoyed by extraneous noises? I wonder... if I hit him on the back of the head, will it make him feel better? Will it make me feel better?
- School is almost over for the semester. I have these delusions that over the month long break I am going to get more organized and accomplish a lot of things that I've been putting off because of school. I know, I know. I said they're delusions, okay?
- I've been having panic attacks every night when I go to bed because that's when I remember all the stuff I've been putting off because of school. One of those things is Christmas shopping. I'm getting a little anxious just writing about that one. *think happy thoughts - think happy thoughts - think happy thoughts*
- I've been feverishly knitting a darling little hat for a friend's daughter, but I forgot to take pictures of it in progress. Now it's almost done, and I can't stand to take a picture of it so close to the finish line. It'll have to wait until after Thursday because I have a couple of last minute things to tidy up for school. Trust me, though. It's cute.
See? I wasn't kidding. It's a total yawn fest around here. Oh well. At least I didn't try to blog any of that drab drivel. Maybe something intriguing will happen tomorrow.
5 comments:
If you hit Rhett on the back of the head, it may at least dislodge the gerbil. (The gerbil bit amused me.)
I know what you mean about the holiday-season panic attacks. I've been in denial about the nearness of the dreaded date by which I'm supposed to have gotten lots of people some sort of gifts...
Rhett has since informed me that hitting him on the back of the head may not only dislodge the gerbil, but also his wedding ring. Guess I better try something else.
WHO is your eighth-grader's principal? Dolores Umbridge? Seriously, that's just weird. (And makes me reconsider putting my kid in the lottery for Gibbs.)
Jody - Weird, huh? I don't know how they are supposedly supplying all of these enriching experiences for the kids if the school feels like a prison.
I want to see that knitted creation!
I know what you mean about those late-night panic attacks. BTDT and I don't like it.
No more than three kids in a group? What?!
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