From The "I Don't Know Why We Have To Learn This, We'll Never Use It In Real Life" Files

I can't say that I'm disappointed by the SNOW DAYS on Monday and Tuesday. Well, I could. If I was a big fat liar, with pants all ablaze. Because it would not be the truth. I am not sad to miss my duty day on Monday. And you know what? Next Monday I'll miss it again, due to President's Day!

Now we'll have some more 50-degree days. Punxsutawney Phil got that part right. Six more weeks of winter. Such as it is, this year. Did you know that Daylight Savings Time starts on March 11? Yeah. That's right around the bend. And official springtime is March 20, the vernal equinox.

I know. I'm a regular font of information tonight. Too bad none of that stuff was asked in our trivia meet on Saturday night. But they asked for the defense lawyer in the Scopes Monkey Trial. William Jennings Bryan, you say? Think again. Our team thought they had it. But Mrs. Hillbilly Mom pulled Clarence Darrow out of her obviously over-sized hat, of the type worn by people too smart to belong to MENSA. And furthermore, she intercepted the answer sheet from the team recorder just before turn-in time for that round, and asked her to change Barrow to Darrow. It was an honest mistake. Ms. Recorder stated that she had become confused, as her childhood piano teacher was named Clarence Barrow. Small world.

As further evidence of the minute universe, another question addressed the address of 1313 Mockingbird Lane. Of course Mrs. Hillbilly Mom alone knew the famous residents of such a locale. In fact, that very day, she had used the 1313 as a fictitious living site on this very blog, as a shout-out to Herman Munster and family. I was not a watcher of The Munsters. I intercepted a magazine-ordering card from some students at one of my old schools, and saw that they had filled out the name of a teacher of whom they were not fond, and given the address as 1313 Mockingbird Lane. Funny what information sticks in the crannies of one's cranium.

So I'm off to school tomorrow. Perhaps to fill my students with superfluous information that they will dredge up in their golden years, when a big night out means playing trivia with other old people.