Why is it easier to just go to work than to plan to be gone? Oh, how I long for my days working for the unemployment office, when my work sat patiently on my desk, awaiting my return. No need to tell anyone else how to do my job. No need to transport folders and hide tests and stash teacher-editions texts out of sight. No need to sweep my very special pens under the rug where they can remain unmolested and unkidnapped.
Tomorrow I shall reunite with my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel. And in honor of the occasion, my nose sprouted a blemish this morning. Yeah. You'd think I was going on a blind date. Or to a dance with the big man on campus. I'm lucky nobody hit me in the nose with a football. Uh huh. Not that the swelling would be any less than that generated by the blemish.
I swear, it's like a unicorn horn poking out from my nose-tip. I could put an eye out with that thing. Thank the Gummi Mary it's not a quadricorn. That could break glasses and blind a four-eyes. Of course my hand is drawn to that area every two minutes, to check and see if that knight's jousting lance of a blemish is getting any smaller. It is not. I'm like Pinocchio. And that's the truth!
I know that Mabel won't care about my appearance. I'm just hoping that my vaulting pole and I can both fit behind the steering wheel of T-Hoe.