Day in the Life of an Idiot

 I have a window open and the sun is shining on my face. It's a gorgeous day. 

Of course, I instantly looked at the leaves still covering much of our front gardens and yard and thought, "Someone should take care of that." Since I am sitting in the upstairs sunporch, apparently decided that that 'someone,' was not, in fact, me. At leas not right at this minute. I might have to go out and poke around a little. It's REALLY nice out. 

We'll see. I don't actually have a huge amount of time before I have to get ready to go pick up Eleanor. It's Friday, so a group of us are meeting for our usual hangout at Claddaugh. 

Mason's home sick again, though. This one was a bad one. Migraines are like that, though. He emphatically did not want to deal with the fact that rebound headaches are a thing. as is a need to recover from the first one, (and was in such a state that he convinced himself that a second absence = utter and complete failure.)  Thus, we were half way to school before I made the executive decision to turn him back around. 

I wish I understood how better to talk to Mason about the high standards he puts on himself. I'm sure, if I had taken him to school and he'd had some kind of physical or mental collapse the school would be looking at us demanding to know why we push him so damn hard.

We don't. This is all him. I am constantly talking to him about how grades aren't the end all, be all. I know that he definitely got the message from the University of Chicago's dean that transcripts matter, but I tried to explain to him 1) attendance isn't EVER looked at, 2) particularly if the overall GPA is good. And, GOOD, it doesn't have to be only A+s from here on out, either. What they are REALLY looking at is that you've challenged yourself, taken the hard classes that might net you a B, but are not "Basketweaving 101."

Mason seems also quite convinced that successful people never take breaks. Given that both me and his mom do, I'm guessing he either doesn't think we're successful (a possibility) or he must have superheroes for colleagues (or both.)  Because I asked him, "Are you saying NO ONE in your classes is ever sick two days in a row?" He was convinced this morning, at any rate, that no, none of them are EVER out sick more than one day, and then only once every blue moon. I have no idea how to counter that. Only later did it occur to me that there's something wonky about this thinking that goes beyond the obvious. Obviously, people can do well and be out sick more than one day. However, what is this strange benchmark in Mason's mind even saying about people who are chronically sick? Are they automatic failures? When did attendance = intelligence, anyway? I have no idea what's going on with him this morning, except, I suspect, he's just feeling panicked because AP tests are coming in a week and the migraine exhausted him to the point of hysteria.

Both of which are legit.

But which make me feel even better about putting my foot down and demanding he pay attention to what his body is telling him.

 As you know, Bob, our household has to wake up at 5:30 am in order to get prepped and such in time to take everyone to school.  Over winter break, I'm happy to say that we spent two glorious weeks sleeping in until awoken naturally--either by sunlight or just plain having gotten enough rest.  Those halcyon days are gone, my friends, and OMG am I paying the price.  Particularly since, last night, I was scheduled to work at Maplewood Library.

Normally, I can't complain about my working situation.  It's utterly enviable, and I know it.  I hardly ever am required to work more than four hours a shift and I work... MAYBE once a week? Seriously, it's an awesome, awesome job with extra helpings of awesome since it is at a library and I spend my four hours surrounded by books. (So much AWESOME.)  Plus, other than the fact that I do spend all four hours on my feet, it is literally the easiest job in the world for me.  The requirements? To speak English well enough to know the order of the alphabet.  TBF, sometimes that's a bit hard for me, but mostly?  I got this. (Besides, there's this song I can sing when I get stuck on the alphabet, so you know a job is good when the hardest days are ones when you have to sing the most.)

BUT, okay, I have ONE SMALL COMPLAINT.  That is: evening hours at the library require me to stay up a WHOLE HOUR past my bedtime.  I thought  I might actually collapse from tiredness somewhere around 8:30 pm last night.  And this morning I've been almost hilariously misreading nearly every post I've seen on Facebook.  Hence, the title of this blog...  though I have to admit that I rather like the implications of "knowing is half the baffle," so that might become my new battle cry.

Speaking of new battle cries, I've decided this year that when I'm angry at some yahoo on social media, I'm going to insult them exclusively from lyrics in the Grinch song.  This morning I told Shawn that she was "a bad banana with a greasy black peel."  So, watch out, my friends.  If I'm really mad at you, you might see this in your in-box, "Three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote: Stink. Stank. STUNK."

Of course, this is going to require that I have the song either memorized or at hand when I'm unreasonably angry, so probably this new year's resolution will go down the toilet pretty quickly, like most of them do.  HOWEVER, I'm going to Do My BEST as is often said in Japanese "Gambetta!"

I think this is a Very Important new years' resolution.  I mean, everyone vows to lose weight, eat right, and exercise more.  Me, I'm going to Grinch Insult people.

Mason has vowed to memorize the Periodic Table of Elements, so that's a nicely unusual one, too.  How about you? Anything out of the ordinary?

I'm not the sort to feel general uneasiness, but today is starting out strange and somewhat... je ne sais quois.

The first odd thing that happened this morning was that when Shawn, Mason and I headed to the car to begin the various trips to work and school, we discovered our neighbor's tree completely toppled. At first I thought: Holy shit! It's so dry the trees are just falling over! This is not as crazy/stupid a thought as you might initially think. When it was really windy here the other week, another neighbor's boulevard tree snapped in half, weakened by the drought. (These are small trees, not fully grown ones.) Anyway, upon closer inspection the tree seems to have been half sawed and then broken. Which then led us to wonder: Why? By whom? And to what end? (And, being the neighborhood busybodies that we are: who the frak is going to clean it up???)

Shawn is on that last one. She's emailing the city people probably even as I type.

The other odd bits actually occurred last night (as probably did the tree vandalism/accident). One: our cat Apollo, who died several years ago, seems to have returned in ghost form. 'Pollo was never very bright, nor could he see very well, both of which made him very sweet and endeared him to us forever. But, on thing he used to do in the middle of the night was stand on the landing and make a very distinctive meow that we always took to be him saying: "Hey! Hey, are you guys here???" To which we always responded, "We're [fill in the blank, i.e., in the TV room, bedroom, etc.]" Last night (and not for the first time, either,) I swear I heard 'Pollo. We have another talker in the house, Mr. Inky, but his meows are very different (plus, no offense to 'Pollo, but Inky is smarter... if he wants us, he jumps on the bed and meows in our ears.) Often, too, Inky sleeps at my feet. Anyway, I heard 'Pollo last night and I muttered, "We're upstairs, 'Pollo!" and, just like 'Pollo always used to do I hear a sort of "Murph" (his "okay, then") and then silence. Just like 'Pollo always used to do.

Very odd.

Also, it was a restless night, in general. I'd had too much caffeine at Wyrdsmiths and was stimulated by all the interesting people, conversation, writing, etc., and wasn't exactly sleeping soundly (what, with 'Pollo) and, apparently, neither was Shawn. Shawn has always been a sleep talker. I have a ton of funny (and sweet) stories of the things she's said and done while competely and totally asleep. Normally, I listen in and take notes to tell her about what strange (and/or wonderful) things her subconscious does at night when she's not paying attention. Last night I was so tired/wired, that all I noticed was that she was sitting bolt upright in bed and talking up a STORM. I just yelled out (not unlike with 'Pollo) "Honey, you're talking. Go to sleep." Which she did, only to pop up later and start talking again.

Weird night.

Plus, I think I had dreams that involved being in Cairo again, running from someone or something. I don't really know.

Today I'm feeling just sort of out of sorts and I don't much feel like doing anything other than gardening and napping, despite all my book deadlines and the fact that Shawn and I are going to go grocery shopping in about ten minutes.

Sigh.