I'M NOT SANE

Right now things are kind of shitty around here. Covid is still raging, and I've just about reached the end of my rope with the stupidity. No, really. 

While CDC guidelines say teachers don't need to be told when they're exposed, or some such bullshit, and while we are all being told to "mask up" or lose jobs, rights, etc., we see STUPID SHIT.

Take the Emmys, for example. Why is it okay for the rich and elite to go maskless and sit next to each other at social events? It makes sane people think, "Gawd, I hope you all get sick." I don't think that because I'm not sane, but sane people think that, just FYI.

And these 5k's and concerts. Thousands of people jammed into spaces and not wearing masks. What the serious eff is that all about? If I have to wear a mask, then ALL of YOU assholes do, too. It makes sane people think, "Gawd, I hope you all get sick." I don't think that because I'm not sane, but sane people think that, just FYI.

Today at the grocery store there is a huge sign saying, "Please mask up to protect our employees." I mask up, walk in, and the employees in the aisles are not even wearing masks. Even the people stocking fruits and vegetables, NOT wearing masks. It makes sane people think, "Gawd, I hope you all get sick." I don't think that because I'm not sane, but sane people think that, just FYI.

So, I don't know who's dumber: Me for wearing a mask when I'm told I HAVE to (like at school) or people who go to the Emmys or 5k's or who tell ME to wear a mask to protect THEM but THEY refuse to wear masks. 

In the end, it doesn't matter because only sane people think this shit, and I'm not sane, so I guess that means I'm safe.

TOASTING THE TOASTY

It has finally happened.

It’s the miracle I have been waiting for.

I have emailed the company and written to the company, and I’ve even blogged about my extreme disappointment in the product that, despite its constant epic failures, I buy over and over again like Charlie looking for the Golden Ticket. I live for that one moment when it all comes together.

Today is that day. Today I reach into the box of Extra Toasty Cheez-Its and discover the panacea of extra –toasty crackers.

I would like to extend my deepest appreciation and joy to whichever line worker allowed this beauty to make it into the box. I love you and want to marry you.  You are my people!

LIGHTING THE CHILL

My friend has lights in her living room. No, not regular lights, but she has those, too. I mean like Christmas tree lights. She has them strung up inside the recessed ceiling, creating this chill and interesting lighting when it gets dark. Between that and the twinkling lights of Boston out her floor-to-ceiling windows, the place is amazingly chill.

After a hellish few days at work where micro-management has been taken to apoplectic, atmospheric levels, I want chill in my life. I crave chill. I need chill.

I recently bought (and built) a pub-table area for guests and for working someplace other than my stationary desk-top mini-office area. The pub table area has a little mood lighting, provided by mini-lights in a wine bottle (courtesy of another friend), but it needed something more. Something . . . well, to be honest, something chill.

I have several strings of mini-lights from when I had small decorative trees all over the old townhouse. When I downsized, I got rid of all those decorations (except for the two I recently unpacked that I forgot about) and my Christmas tree. I still, however, have the lights. I happened upon some adjustable stick-on hooks, and, the next thing I knew, I was prepping under the counter and above the pub table area to simulate chill.

It may not be as interesting as my friend’s living room ceiling, but I spent hours working there today and have completely accepted that this is now the most chill space in the apartment. It has to be, and I know this because I used those hours to do work and I wasn’t even pissed off while I was doing it.

Maybe I should bring some of those lights to work and set them up near my desk. Can’t hurt. And if they don’t make me chill, I can always use them to whack people as they walk by. Got to be honest, there are some times when that would be totally chill, as well.

MY SUMMER PICTURE FOR THE NONEXISTENT WORK BULLETIN BOARD

We have a tradition at school.

Teachers and staff send to the administration pictures of themselves or of their families doing something fun during summer break. From there, this shared file gets printed out and put on a bulletin board for all of the staff to enjoy.

Sounds like a great motivator, right?

One year I sent in a picture of myself crawling through the mud under an obstacle at the Muddy Princess Mud Run. One year I sent in a picture of myself standing in front of Madison Boulder, the largest glacial erratic in North America (I looked like an ant). One year I sent in a picture of me kayaking.

But, Covid happened. Rather than move the pictures to a more accessible location, staff was simply banned from using that hallway. It is, after all, the hallway where two doors are: Principal and Vice Principal. Gotta keep them safe from the rest of us poisonous minions, right?

So, instead of being able to enjoy the printed pictures of our colleagues, we can (if we are so inclined) glance at the shared Google folder instead because, hey, getting on our work computers to open our work files to maybe peruse some pictures in our work Drive is so motivating.

This year I might submit this picture of my summer break. It’s ME as a playing piece from the card game Rat-A-Tat-Cat. It’s as authentic and as motivating as shoveling through work folders to maybe see someone’s teeny tiny wedding icon.  Maybe it’s even more motivating because it’s colorful and interesting and speaks volumes about my personal life and who I am and how I spent my summer break (unpaid, mind you) from work.

Oh, phooey. You just know someone will say, “Wow, kid, sour grapes much?” or, even better, print out or virtually share this blog with someone actually IN admin (but I doubt it since most of those coworkers who friended me on social media have since UNFRIENDED me, anyway).

Whatever.

The truth of it is: If you really gave a crap about what we did while thankfully away from that insane asylum, or if anyone actually gave a good damn about our mental health, you wouldn’t make us WORK for an iota of camaraderie.

But don’t take my word for it. What do I know? I’m just a relatively innocuous card in a much larger and far more entertaining game.