8 days a week

There are days when I really don't remember what actually happened.  I get out of bed, shower, dress and eat.  Some days, I go to work and I keep moving and thinking and talking and teaching and tidying and packing up and travelling then I come home.  When I get home, I fall into bed.  Other days, I go to medical appointments, shop for groceries, go to church, prepare lessons, complete paperwork and attempt to catch up on school work.  At the end of the day, although sometimes it's in the middle, I fall into bed and sleep overtakes me.  

Is that 8 sentences yet? 

Between the family, the friends and the work (none of which I am handling all that well) there doesn't seem to be time for blogging or any formal sort of reflection.  My days are long and sometimes fuzzy.  I move through each day... one step at a time... one task at a time.  Far from "on top of it" I am not nearly high enough to be on top.  

A wise woman once said, "You eat an elephant one mouthful at a time."

I was trying for one sentence at a time.  I feel a failure. Not to mention the fact that now I'm hungry.  

Do elephants taste like chicken? 

  

Another Day Another Sentence

Today it rained.

Today it rained a lot.

Today it rained a lot and I actually left the house to go to some medical appointments.

Today it rained, a lot, Dad had another procedure and Mum came home from work early.

Today, it rained, a lot, and I had a headache.

Today it rained.

Check out Sky News.

It's been a while

I don't need 7 sentences to tell you about last week.  I don't even need 1 sentence. 

I only need one word... Headache. 

I suppose I could turn that into a sentence... or 7. 

Last week I had a headache. 

On Monday, I woke up and felt okay, but tired.  I went to work. By lunch, my shoulders were tight and sore.  

At 4 pm I went out for coffee with a teacher friend.  I got home at 5:30 and went to bed. 

Tuesday- woke up feeling icky.  Went to work - kept working until 3pm when I heated up my lunch and took it to a meeting.  Went home with a headache.  Slept. 

Wednesday - had lots of work to do.  Blew it off to sleep. Saw HIM and HIS kids. Went to bed early. 

Thursday - went to work with a headache. 

Friday - went shopping and got my eyebrows waxed.  Came home with a headache and went to bed. 

You might be wondering what I did on the weekend?  I slept and worked and worked some more.  He took me out on Saturday night for Valentines day.  

Sunday- church, work, bed. 

The last two days I have felt okay until I get home and I realise how tired and sore and tired I am.  Yes, I know I put tired in there twice.  I am twice as tired. 

That's that then.  

Side Effects

I am fed up with side effects.  You see, my medication has been reduced, now, on top of the usual side effects, I get to experience withdrawal symptoms while all my biochemicals learn how to balance again. 

They say that weird is a side effect of awesome.  

So there's that too. 

Side effects are rarely fun.  

Although, there was a medication I used to take (I don't remember the name) that sometimes induced inexplicable giggling.  I was usually able to link it to something that I thought was exceedingly hilarious, but I was rarely able to explain it to those around me.  Not very professional, I know.  My co-workers became accustomed to the common sight of me in fits of giggles.  They stopped asking.  

It was fun while I was giggling. 

I'm not crazy.  I'm not. 

Looking Out the Window

Last Night, I was standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, and I looked up. Something out the window had moved.  The cat, had leaped on to the picnic table, staring at a point above the window.  Her body is low, her legs bent and ready to pounce.  Her eyes are wide and her ears are pricked up, listening for the squeaky call of the gecko that lives in our roof.  The sun is setting and everything behind her has an orange tint.  I wonder if this has made it difficult for her to see. I go back to the dishes and the bubbles.

Meeeoooww!

Shelly has jumped onto the window sill and is looking straight at me.  The dirty glass that separates us is not enough to distort the message her clear eyes and mournful meows are sending.  I shake the water off my hands before walking across the to the back door.  By the time the door slides open, Shelly is standing impatiently at the step and she eagerly runs inside and heads for her food bowl.  It is empty.

She turns back towards me, her eyes slightly narrowed.  MMEEEOOOWW!!

A whole new meaning for paperless workplace!

Yesterday our school ran out of printer paper. The photocopiers were all empty!
One enterprising senior teacher had a few reams of paper in his office and offered to sell it for $1 a page. I found a ream in my classroom cupboard and smuggled it to my staff room for my "room mates" to share for absolutely essential printing ONLY.

This morning I took a ream of paper from my home office into work so I wouldn't have to survive another day without pressing the print button.  Did I have time to print anything today? No. No, I didn't. 

Where is the paper now? Hidden under my desk at work!

The correct paper delivery arrived at school this morning and it was distributed quickly. There is a spate of paper hoarding happening now. One of the teacher aides in my staff room has hidden several reams in bottom drawers, backs of cupboards, under desks and behind furniture. She really didn't cope with the paper shortage yesterday.

That's that then.  Crisis averted... just.

The Poop Report

You might have the same thing in your house if you have young children.

The other day, my niece announced to her mother (my sister) that the 'bubby' had done a pooh.  The shrieks of Miss 3yo "Pooh! Pooh! Mummy!"  echoed through the house. My sister responded calmly saying, "No, Princess, it's okay, there's no pooh."

15 minutes later Sis lifted baby 8 out of her high chair to discover that there was in fact pooh in places pooh should not ever be - legs, feet, the bottom of the seat, the floor.  EEEEWWWW!!!

There is a different kind of Poop Report at my house.  

We all know about Shelly.  We know she is an inside cat - with a litter box.  On occasion Shelly uses her litter box and doesn't bury her deposit.  A short time after, my mother will walk into the laundry (where Shelly's litter box resides) and notice the visibility of the poop.  Before long, there will be a knock at my door.  "Just so that you know, the poop is on top of the litter box"  OR "The litter box needs attention."  OR "There is an odour in the laundry."

I have decided that instead of letting this annoy me - because it could very well annoy me - I am going to call it the Poop Report.

Perhaps I should consider myself lucky.  There are worse things than a bit off poop on top of the litter box... like liquid baby poop that has escaped the confines of its owner's nappy!!


Icky!

Research....

Today I am researching the clasroom unit that I'm supposed to be teaching from Monday.  I haven't written the teaching unit yet.  Looks like we will be writing as we go.  Lot's of teachers do that... don't they?!

The title of the unit: I will Survive.


I am resisting the urge to play Gloria Gaynor's hit song as the students enter my classroom on Monday!

Through the power of Google, I am finding quite a few inspirational stories and some excellent You Tube videos that I will be able to show my students.  I have also come to the conclusion that the Internet is a very strange place!!! So strange, in fact, that I don't want to show you the places I accidentally visited today.

Moving On! I hope!