Everyone is so nice.
People keep asking, "How is it going?" And I tell them the truth.
It's going great. No really. I LOVE my job. I love being at school. I love working with the kids. I love my principal and the staff. I love our school district. I love the families. I love what I get to do. I really really do love being at work.
And also, I love my weekends so much. I am obsessed with being home. There's nowhere else I would rather be than in my home but mostly lying in my bed.
Both are the truth.
I love being at work and also I love not being at work.
That is what I tell people when they ask because it is the whole truth.
But some people press me a bit more, because like I said, everyone is so nice. And when some people press me a bit more, I tell them the rest of the truth.
It's going well. Really well. Our routines are working. Things are clicking. The rhythms are vibing. The systems are systematizing!
Until Wednesday.
We can hold it together until about Wednesday. And by we, I mean the husband. He's holding us together (remember - I'm lying in bed).
So it's about Wednesday when the wheels start falling off the bus.
Like today, for example. Today is Wednesday. And we only had one - ONE - commitment after school (usually we have 85). And because Sunday-Me and Monday-Me was totally dialed in, I did all the things. I meal-planned and grocery-shopped and caught up on the laundry and balanced the proverbial household books.
I wrote the meals on our meal board, and tonight said, "Chicken Enchiladas." And I meant it too. I didn't even buy store-bought enchilada sauce because we (and by we, I mean the husband) will make enchilada sauce from scratch.
And he did. He oiled the pan and seasoned the chicken thighs and diced up the cooked-to-perfection, delightfully-smelling chicken so that we (he) could assemble the enchiladas.
Meanwhile, I was sorting 16 baskets of laundry because, well, it's Wednesday, and didn't you hear me the first time? THE BUS HAS NO WHEELS.
And because he is holding the family together, the husband ran downstairs to wrap up his full day of work before completing enchilada assembly while I continued to sort the laundry (and by sort the laundry, I mean lie in bed next to the laundry and think about sorting it. Gosh people. IT'S WEDNESDAY).
And then the husband came back upstairs to assemble the enchiladas except the neatly chopped, cooked-to-perfection and delightfully-smelling chicken had completely and utterly disappeared.
I have two words: BAD DOG.
Look, the dog did not know that it was Wednesday, but of course this WOULD happen on a Wednesday. I guess what I'm saying is that the dog is a lot like the rest of us in that by Wednesday, he just can't keep it together anymore either.
I guess what I'm really saying is that this is the true story of how I ended up ordering $83 of Chinese takeout.
And also, FREE DOG FOR SALE!
But really, everyone is so nice.
PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON US ALL AND TAKE THE DOG. DON’T WORRY. HE WILL FEED HIMSELF.
And hey, thanks for asking.
