From the Two Can Play THAT Game Department:
Cus stopped me in the hall last Friday after school. I was waiting on The Pony, who has joined a game club that meets on Fridays until 5:00. WHAT was he thinking? I know what he was thinking. I don't have to drive. Mom won't mind hanging around, putting her weekend off for two hours so I can play board games with other nerds like myself. My people.
So Cus stopped me just outside my room, down by the double doors, and asked how I was doing. I figured Cus was fishing to see what time I would exit the building and stop delaying the start of The Weekend of Cus. So I responded briefly and politely that things were great, the school year was starting to roll along, etc. But Cus said, "No. How are YOU doing?" So nice of Cus to inquire about my health update. So we chatted about that, and about Cus's previous health crisis. I was ready to bury the hatchet. Outside, of course. Nothing to mar Cus's shiny waxy floors. We could start this year off right.
Yesterday and today, I arrived to find my back row of desks moved two inches off their mark. Towards the back aisle. I'm sure you remember how Cus left me a note last year, and asked an administrator if my desks could be rearranged to make Cus's five-minute job easier every day, even though it would make my 7-hour job harder. The administrator informed Cus that furniture placement was MY preference, but that it wouldn't hurt to ask me. And I explained to Cus the issues it causes in traffic flow, and declined to change my seating arrangement of four years.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom does not try to be difficult. But after a lifetime of trying to go along to get along, she has decided to put her foot down. Her best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel has empowered her like Ninny Threadgoode empowered Evelyn Couch. That's Jessica Tandy and Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes. Not that I'm saying Mabel is ready for the nursing home, of course.
Today when I left school, I walked past that back row of desks and moved their prettily-shod feet forward two inches. That's right. Instead of leaving them on the tile corners and finding them in the morning two inches back, I decided to be proactive. Move them two inches forward to start with.
Because, you know, if someone thinks two inches doesn't matter, then we'll find out how much two inches doesn't matter the OTHER way. I can imagine the inquisition now. All I've got to say is, "I KNOW! Those kids this year don't have a clue how to line up their chairs at the end of the day. Twice this week, I've come in to find those chairs back two inches too far!" That way, Cus will know that I know.
Uh huh. Two can play THAT game. And Mrs. Hillbilly Mom will win.