So I know most people really won't get this, but I am really excited because I just got an invite to Ravelry.com, which is a knitting and crocheting community where you can share patterns, and post pictures of your projects, and basically revel in the glory of all things yarn related. I know. I'm a dork. Build a bridge.
So this morning I was standing in the doorway of my classroom talking to my neighbor when one of the adults in my room tells me to come quick. Never a good sign. So I go back to my classroom, and she tells me there is a bat in my window. I was like... ex-squeeze me. I have these metal, cross-hatched grates on my windows because I am right next to the baseball field and balls have broken the windows before. There is about six inches between the window pane and the grate. And there, tucked away in that space... is a bat. A real life, my name is Dracula bat. I have no idea how it got in, and clearly it could not get out. And clearly we could not all get on with our days, myself included, until we had ALL satisfactorily checked out the bat. That includes the classroom next to me, whose teacher I was gabbing to, I mean, discussing a purely work related issue with, before I got called back to my room. I don't really know how she found out... it could have had something to do with the fact that upon seeing the bat, I went running into her classroom, waving my arms and jumping up and down yelling "there's a bat in my window." And they all stared a little. But I eventually won them over and they all trudged single file back to my room and took turns looking at the bat, which WAS actually pretty cool like I had promised them it would be. That is the last time I go running into their room with a lame brained story and they don't believe me. I have them right where I want them. So, back to the bat, it clearly could not get out, and upon my colleague and I inspecting the outside of the grate, there was not a single hole or break in the metal. We have no idea how it got there. So we called the office, and they called the janitor who had to come and unbolt the grate and prop it open while gently nudging the bat with a broomstick to get it to come out. The janitor was not nearly as amused with the whole situation as I was. Nor as hyper. Nevada is weird.
Anytime I see something screech across a room and latch onto someone's neck, and the guy screams and tries to get it off, I have to laugh, because what is that thing?
Okay, okay, I get it. I haven't posted in a while. I have been really busy with work. And that's lame. Got it. Today (and yesterday) I had to sit through a training on a test I am going to have to administer. (I am a teacher. A new one. A new one who apparently has to learn about these tests.) And at this training, there was a power point presentation... with pictures... on (I kid you not) what a zip drive is, what a flash drive is and what a cd is. There was also an equally riveting presentation on what "backing up" meant, and how to do it. (This of course was the second part of the presentation because to back up you have to either use a zip disk, flash drive or cd, and if you have no knowledge of these items, say for instance you have been living under a fucking rock for the past 11 years eating grub worms and combing your hair with the exoskeleton of a dried up scorpion, you wouldn't get the complex topic of backing up). THEN (oh yes, there is a then) the group spent close to FORTY MINUTES learning how to burn a cd. The woman next to me was an idiot (I actually pulled out my flash drive from my purse because not only had she never heard of one, but she had never seen one. For reals.), but a very distant runner up to the woman/old man combo (like, there was two separate people sharing half a brain, not like there was a man with a penis and boobs... although, they were both boobs... I digress) that was caddy corner to me. And for this, I had to get a sub for TWO days, and be away from MY students for TWO days, and now they have all probably forgotten what I look like and that I force them with threats of lashings with a wet noodle to love me, I mean, that they love me. It was my first sub EVER. You don't get these moments in life back people. I wanted my first sub ever to be for something REALLY good, like being too hungover from a drunken trip to Vegas or TJ and having to stay home and work up the nerve to peek under the suspicious bandage on my forearm concealing the I Heart Mom tattoo. You know, something like that. But now, my first sub day EVER goes down in the history books as a boring training on the complexities of backing up.
I Heart My Job... dot dot dot...
