Literary Theft

Am under threat of deletion from bookmark list and favorites by various individuals, so am forced to update blog in manner of favorite movie/book and merely blog out thoughts quickly so as to avoid said tragedy.

Life is most bothersome lately with the work and family and home and health things all converging upon my head at once, which should come as no suprise since this is about the 10th or 11th time that I've endured a back-to-school routine, but this one is particularly brutal thanks to the introduction of a foriegn element to my work habitat--water.

Last year, whilst I was strolling along the banks of the Thames, I knew that sheer and utter madness awaited me upon my return to the workplace due to a very unfortunate contrusction fuckery which is now known as "the middle school wing" but should, by all rights, purposes and intent be, in fact the high school wing, but I'm not one to carry a grudge a year or more later. Oh, no, not me. This fuckery, however, did cause major mishaps in my classroom in the manner of a plague of dust and construction destruction that no one bothered to clean up whilst I was taking said strolls, so I spent the better part of a semester, nay, three quarters, cleaning up grit and grime from the various intrusions into my domain in order to hook various bits and pieces to the "middle school wing". Finally, sometime in late January, the wing was at least opened and they stopped using my room as a vehicle for abstract pipe art and weird metal boxy coverings and I was able to at least enjoy the project for what I now consider its true purpose...a $900K bathroom and teacher's lunch roomy place to benefit me. The rest of it? I couldn't give less of a rat's ass if I had a mangy rat that I hated.

Why dredge this up now? Because I'm me, of course, but also because that sets the stage for the unbridled clusterfuckery of THIS school year's start: the failure of the roof. This actually started late last year, and one would think that some sort of repair process would be good seeing as my work environment is loaded with papery things and all manner of bookishness, but that would be assuming that anyone with any power has his, her or its head out of the ass to which it belongs. Really. All summer long, instead of just letting the classrooms sit and mellow sans children, a few choice ones (mine in particular--you don't really care about the others) were allowed to fester in their own Tennessee Rain Forest. Sadly, there was no cafe added--in fact, the cafe was gutted and students and adults alike have been sentenced to sack lunch hell, but that's a rant for another day. Instead, we have a smelly, wet, bucket-filled swamp with nary an animatronic gorilla or elephant in sight.

So, that essentially pissed me off (and I made a few calls to those who don't have heads in asses--all anonymous like, of course, and brought the enlightment that was so desperately needed to the situation). Little did I know that I could be more pissed off, but when it actually, literally rains into your workspace? And soaks your furniture in a puddle of water about .25 inches deep and then leaves a malingering odor that is, as God is my witness, beyond any and all description even by the msot talented wordsmith? Well, that just tops it all and puts one in a most foul mood, although now I am awaiting the collapse of a very bulgy, nasty, sodden piece of tile that just happens to be located directly over my podium because when it falls, I plan to take off for the rest of the day at someone else's expense.

Plagues, I suppose, one could consider these. Two years ago there were mice, then came the grit, and now the water. If bugs are next, I'm officially going into early retirement. No questions asked, no debate.

Must now go prepare to face another day in my own little terrarium--if you're in the area, stop by. I'm easy to find. My classroom is the one with the duct-tape repairing the window which was broken in 1993...I wish I was joking.