july 30, 2002.

Last night I slept 13 hours. I dreamt that it was my first day of school. I was trying to organize a class, but my attention kept wandering. After awhile I realized that the period was over and I'd completely spaced on my class. Horror show.

My anxiety level has been pretty high lately. I'm desperately afraid that I'm going to fuck up big time with these kids; that I'm going to miss some vital trick and spend all my time fighting with them. Kids can be enormous energy sucking lamprey eels if you don't get things set up just right. Oh well. It's not like a prison term. Not only can I quit (eventually), but I get a fresh start every 4 months and a chance to do it all better.

Amy sent me a wonderful book to prepare me for the year: The First Days of School. I'm pathetically grateful; I've just now realized how much I don't know about running a classroom.

As I woke up late (see: sleep, 13 hours of), not much was done with my day. I did manage to lug another load of groceries up the hill (I went down for eggs and toilet paper but came back with meat, veggies, cereal, rice crisps, apples etc.) It made me feel very heroic. There I was, a slip of a girl and weak as a kitten, lugging a full load of groceries up the hill! I didn't need a sissy car (although for all of my pride I wouldn't've turned down a lift). I was a sweaty, red-faced, out-of-breath Atlantic Amazon! Or something.

I also folded all of yesterday's laundry. My grandmother, bless her soul, was really onto something when she remarked, "if you don't fold it right away, it's crap!" Fortunately, it's mostly the Boy's crap.

(I am a vindictive, vindictive homemaker.)

I called my mother tonight with good news: OSAP is coming through for the Boy, thus lessening the crushing debt load we're to assume in September. The conversation turned into a shouting match halfway through. Apparently she's still working through some issues from the death of Mustang Scotty. Perspective is everything, and in hers, I'm ungrateful & stubborn. This is, ostensibly, why she was in such a rotten mood throughout our last visit to the big city.

Oh well. We worked it out, but as I'm not really sure why she got so upset, I'm not really clear on why she calmed down tonight. My mother is mystery to me. Maybe that's the way it should be.

"...feel free to ask questions if I've been unclear. But just you. Everyone else can eat a big bag of shit... its none of their goddamn business anyway. Bastards."

- pixie's comment on the gossipy & inquisitive

I assume the Boy is excluded from this exhortation, but I'm taking no chances.