I’ve been sitting here in my computer corner for about a minute reflecting on my day. Many of you would think a minute’s not long enough to reflect on an entire 24 hours of living and breathing, but when it’s Monday, it’s all I need to realize nothing important happened. Sure, there were the inconsequential things, but are they really worth writing about? I don’t know. Let’s give it a shot:
8:10am= Computer at school doesn’t recognize me on the network. I don’t recognize myself on instant coffee. Bad mood. I scribble “Fix the fucking internet” in my day planner, fully realizing that’s the only thing I can do in a situation like this since the tech help people can’t get to it in the five minutes before class begins. I feel better immediately having written bad words.
9:30am= Student scribbles on another student’s work. I flip out. Lack of network recognition and real coffee doesn’t help temper my mood.
11:15am= Lunch. Can’t really go wrong with that.
12:03-12:48=History class. Generally a disaster every single time it happens, every single day. Student has hidden a Harry Potter book in a new textbook and is reading about Snape and Hermoine instead of about the equally fascinating Prime Meridian. I confiscate said Harry Potter. Student pouts. I have no sympathy: Greenwich Mean Time matters. End of story.
3:20= I regroup with my former 7th graders and touch base about the Shakespeare club we’re starting. My soul is restored and I move onto tutoring with happiness.
3:25= I tell the third grader I’m tutoring to excuse me because I have to go to the bathroom to blow my nose. I tell her I expect that when I return, she’ll have written a lot in her notebook. She tells me that means I’m going to the bathroom go to poop. If I’m going to be gone for that long, she says, clearly I must be going poop.
3:40= Same third grader laughs at my armpits in my tank top.
4:40= I catch the bus as it’s stopped at a light. I get a single seat. I put my sunglasses on. I daydream.
5:00= I get off the bus and walk to the gym.
5:08= I get on the treadmill and don’t stop for 45 minutes. I think, perhaps, my day has given me nothing but motivation to expel it from my system. I sweat out the troubles profusely. I don’t care that I smell.
6:55= I weigh myself at the gym. It is in kilos. I have no idea what that means. I tell myself to convert it on the internet at home.
7:09= I take a shower, light candles, apply a face mask, get into pajamas, and chat with Dennis. Soup is on the menu for dinner, probably followed by a good dose of popcorn and/or chocolate cookies. Who the hell am I kidding. I have a pint of Haagen Dazs in the freezer and nothing to do tonight but watch a movie and crawl into bed. I am all over that shit.
7:26= I convert kilos to pounds. I think twice about the Haagen Dazs.
7:35 (now)= Hm. That was kind of fun. With the exception of the poop comment and the realities of the metric system, it’s been all-in-all a decent day. And to think there was nothing of substance back then in my minute’s reflection. I’m practically choking with pleasure and thanksgiving.