This morning I remember that it's trash day. I never forget about trash day. Why would I? It happens once a damn week, every damn week. I do actually remember trash day at the last moment and start running around like a crazy person hauling bags to the curb. Of course, it's my biggest trash week since Christmas. Two trips back and forth, and my bags are out, and thankfully it is before the garbage truck gets there.
Work keeps getting interrupted. New class times, state testing for six days, meetings scheduled then cancelled then rescheduled, mock shootings, evaluations ... Every day is a footrace against the clock, and every step I take is impeded by one unnecessary interruption (finicky printers) after another (fainting students),and more.
And what's with everyone's driving? Is everyone texting while sitting at traffic lights? Go, people! Go, Dog, go! I have places to be and people to see, and the last thing I want to do is sit through several lights while you "LOL" at someone's Facebook post with one hand and hold your steering wheel with the other. There's a reason we have speed limits, too, and it's not just to keep you from speeding. If the speed limit is 50 mph, for the love of god, please don't drive 35 mph unless you want to see my skull implode.
If you speak to me sharply, I will bite your damn head off; that's where my patience is these days -- somewhere up in thin air, and I doubt it will be landing any time soon.
