I had to get myself to school this morning without the help of The Pony. Farmer H was so kind as to use his day off to haul the little hoofer to Newmentia to meet his bus at 6:45 a.m. Of course he would have been up and out by then anyway. So lets not start calling around to rent a lift to hoist him on a pedestal.
I was just a few minutes behind schedule, what with having to carry my own school bag. Plus I had a Devil's Playground bag of six rolls of tape and a box of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles adhesive strips. Then I had to unlock my own classroom door! I was downright exhausted before the day began.
Just after I put my lunch in the mini-fridge, I had company. Mrs. Not-A-Cook poked her head in to ask if I lost a notebook.
"Notebook? What makes you think I lost a notebook? Do I look like I carry a notebook?" I walked back out and down the hall and looked toward the door I just came in. There was a purple trapper-keeper kind of notebook leaning against the concrete-block wall beside the right half of the double doors. "Oh, I suppose that notebook jumped out of my school bag and propped itself up against the wall without me knowing."
"Well, I'm sorry. But I thought it might be yours."
Yes. I am so careless with my belongings that I leave a trail paved with free school supplies. I'm HM Officeseed, traveling the land, scattering purple trapper-keepers that crawl up walls to rest insouciantly, the sole of one trapper-keepery foot propped up against the blocks.
I suppose I was a bit harsh with her. I meant her no ill will. She drops in on Friday mornings because she wants to stall before going to her duty where the lad who called Mrs. Hillbilly Mom "smart one" terrorizes her before getting on the bus to his more-structured school.
But seriously. In what bizarro physics world does a full-size trapper-keeper fall out of a teacher's bag and rebound to perfectly-posed attention right beside the door?
Mrs. Not-A-Cook could also be called Mrs. Not-A-Science-Teacher.