You Know What They Say...Soft Head, Cold, Cold Heart

Jury duty again looms on the horizon. Only two days away, and no cancellation in sight.

Let me confess something that might betray Mrs. Hillbilly Mom’s cold, cold heart. I don’t actually want to miss work.

That’s right! You heard me. I enjoy my job. Not all the hoop-jumping. That’s hard on this old dog’s skeletal structure. But the daily part, the routine, working with the pupils…I have grown fond of it over the years. This is a great year to go out with a bang, without whimpering. At this time, I don’t have any hard-core rabble-rousers. Some annoying mosquitoes, perhaps, who have their moments. But nobody beyond repair.

The year is young, my blogfriends. It is but a pup, frolicking and gamboling and endearing itself to Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. It has not yet taken a crap on her quilt, chewed the unused (except by Farmer H) heel straps off her Crocs, or dragged its butt across the pristine white carpet of her career-end.

This time of year is the best. The salad days. The BIG salad days. When everything is humming along, falling into place, like sands through the hourglass, these are the BIG salad days of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom’s professional life. Already seven days (eight boxes) past the spiral holding The Ol’ Red Gradebook together.

I hope jury duty gets cancelled this week.