Number one: my name is not Miss Lewis. No matter how many times the administration at the high school tries to tell me that it is. I just refuse to believe it. I’m pretty sure of my decent….I have pretty distinctive ears, like many members of my father’s family. I’m fairly certain I know my own name, even if I am sure of nothing else in this life.
Secondly, after very little sleep yesterday I find myself spiraling downward into a spinning vortex of hatred of all things animate or not that pick a fight (ie. Does nothing) with me.
The tiny, adorable, turtle in the corner of the classroom has found himself begging for his life as the trickle of water from his filter makes me want to pee my pants and I hate that. It is of course not the turtle’s fault, but obviously stems from the fact that there are students in my classroom ALL. DAY. LONG. With no breaks. My feeble attempt to control the chaos ended in mass mutiny in my 12th grade class. Despite all that, it is easier to take it out on the turtle than the students, he’s smaller and his body more easily flushes down the toilet.
Lastly I must go to the bank. Like if I don’t they will foreclose on my home…and steal my dog. Well, I’m not positive about the home part but Im quite certain about the dog. Shes pretty darn great. But the idea of trudging down town, finding a freaking parking space in the snowy street and standing in line with my Ziploc baggie of nickels and pennies makes me feel like gouging out my eyes. If only there was a way to direct deposit tips from the bar.
~~Ms. Lewis is running to the bank to deposit her turtle. ~~
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