Seems like only a few days ago, I was complaining about the Mom Scouts pushing their cookies all over people.
Even Steven apparently took exception to my treatment of the Mom Scouts. Perhaps because my original title on that post was going to be, "There. I Said It. Girl Scouts Are Real WalkBlockers." Which, perhaps, if spoken aloud quickly, might sound a bit like an unflattering term for somebody who keeps guys from scoring. And we ain't talkin' sports.
So...what should I find this afternoon, as I switched from my run-down old leather New Balance into my newer, flimsier, gray-with-orange-accents mesh New Balance in preparation for leaving the building?
It's like the Tell-Tale Heart. Only not. I didn't hear any noise from it, real or imaginary. It just caught my eye as I stood at the wall, facing out the window, as I stepped out of my shoes and into my shoes.
Now I'll feel it watching me. Mocking me. Standing guard over one who dared threaten the livelihood of a national entity. It wasn't there at 12:12, when I changed from my newer, flimsier, gray-with-orange-accents mesh New Balance into my run-down old leather New Balance in preparation for walking around the classroom for my final three classes.
Now I will be nervous with my back to the window. And my control center cannot be moved! The plethora of wires pouring out of the ceiling and into my electronic gewgaws says so. But I will feel that Thin Mint box moving. Slithering across the dried leaves. Up the brick wall. Sitting on the window ledge over my shoulder. Ducking down when I spin around really fast in my rolly chair!
I might have to stand a pupil on watch.