Back to work tomorrow, so I have to hit the sack before my time. I guess it will make the year go by quicker. I have to get back in the routine of packing lunches for myself and The Pony. Plan meals that can be warmed in the oven or heated in the microwave, using the bare minimum of plates and utensils so I don't have to haul my china finery down to the creek and scrub it with sand. I need to make a calendar, and write in my menu like the school cafeteria. That means it can repeat every week.
The biggest drawback to work is that it cuts down on my ME TIME. I don't mind the actual work itself. The day flies by once the first bell rings. That's because I am easily entertained by adolescents, and find them a good audience for my future stand-up act, and steal some time at the end of each hour to grade the previous class period's work. Hey! I'm still there. I'm available for questions during their guided practice. We can't ALL give 2 hours of homework each night, you know. I'd rather have them there working on it and turn it in before the bell than let them take it home and copy it from the designated brain the next morning in the gym bleachers. Don't think that doesn't happen.
The Pony is ready to bound out of the starting gate on Thursday. Until then, he will be frolicking in Grandma's paddock with her high speed internet. I don't like leaving him out here by himself, unable to drive, no neighbors nearby except Timmy the cat-stealer and alleged mom-freezer, who takes the taxi to town when he needs to do the shopping. Nope. Not after that headless body was found in the septic tank just up the road. Oops! There's a location I need to add to my Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Reality Tour.
Yes, The Pony is like a dried-out sponge, yearning to soak in the big dish-sink of knowledge. I need to lay out a week's worth of clothes for him. We have seen the ensemble that may result if he is left to his own fashion sense. Does Sears still make Garanimals? At least he shaved his sideburn this morning. Yes. Singular. I did
Farmer H starts his bowling league Monday night. It's 36 weeks, if I was really listening to him every time he mentioned it. Funny. That's the amount of weeks in a school year. I'm sure Farmer H can keep me updated on how many weeks I have left.
Of course, for accuracy, I can rely on my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel 's daily countdown.