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Everybody’s running around here like chickens with their heads cut off.  It’s the day of the Big Company Picnic, and of course there’s five million little strings to be tied up, in addition to the regular office work.  I’m a little immune to the frenzy because I’m just moonlighting for this division for the summer.  I sit in my desk in the corner with the ledgers I’m updating while the fuss swirls around me.  It’s nice not to have to worry about it, especially since there’s too much other stuff in my life I do have to worry about.

I don’t like this worry.  It makes me feel a little sick when I start thinking about everything.  Ok, I’m taking a deep breath now… we’re going to be ok.

This is what I’m worried about:

  • School: I’m still not registered for classes for this semester (you know, the one that starts in two weeks), and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to.  My financial aid got royally messed up last semester, and it still isn’t straightened out.  Until that gets taken care of, UD won’t let me register for any more classes.  So I have a lot of phone calls out, and maybe sometime between now and August 20 a miracle will happen.  It really would take a miracle, but I want to go back to school really bad.  I only have a year to go on my undergrad, and I want to be done with that so bad I can taste it.  The thought of having to take another semester off while this gets sorted out… that tastes like battery acid.  Let’s not do that one, ok?
  • This trip out to South Dakota.  The complications are all revolving around what cars we’re going to take.  Originally we were going to take the Big Family Van, only that thing gets about 10mpg.  Gas prices being what they are… yeah, we’re not going to do that.  Then the plan was that we were going to caravan with my new car and AnniPotts car with a cargo shell on top.  That seemed like a pretty good idea, except my car doesn’t have AC, and my mother can’t ride in a car that doesn’t have AC.  She just gets very uncomfortable, and then life would be miserable for everyone.  So then another option is to borrow the Duchess’s car, except it’s a stick shift, and I’ve never learned how to drive stick.  I’m willing to learn, but the idea of doing so in the middle of a long, stressful road trip, being taught by my little brother while my mother is in the back seat is… completely un-thrilling.  The thought of being in the same car with my mother while she learns how to drive stick is even more appalling.  (My mother’s driving horrifies me enough as it is…)  The latest idea is that maybe we could take my parents’ red station wagon (the one I’m pretty sure would break down on us somewhere around Chicago), or maybe Rosie could fix the AC on my car, which would make everyone happy.  I hate that this is turning out to be so stressful for everyone involved, especially AnniPotts, who has had more than her share of stress this year (heck, this lifetime).
  • When I’m possibly going to get all the house/yard work done that needs to be finished before I leave.  There’s cleaning up the house before my Catholic YA group comes over tonight, doing laundry, cutting the grass, neatening up the garden – and that’s just the small stuff.  Plus, you know, selling my ex-car, and making sure I have enough yarn to knit so I can distract myself from things like, you know, my mother’s driving.

Intellectually I know that everything will work out, but my stomach doesn’t seem to want to believe it.

Anyway, if you’ve read down this far, here’s something I thought was funny.  Last night I taught Swing I along with Lone Wolf (and I really need to think of a different name for him).  During the lesson we share the studio with a group of ballroom dancers, mostly older middle age types who only dance with the person they came with.  Usually we coexist fairly peaceably, but occasionally there’s a little friction (partly due to the fact that swing dancing and ballroom dancing are two dance forms that can seem very similar but really aren’t the same at all).  Anyway, this older guy from the ballroom class stayed after and watched us teach.  After the lesson he asked Lone Wolf to step outside with him, where he told him that our teaching skills were pathetic, our class was disgraceful, our students weren’t picking up 80% of what we were teaching, and if we knew what was good for us we would completely transform everything about the way we teach.  He knew all this, and had the right to say it because he had been teaching ballroom dancing for 25 years, so he knew what he was talking about.

SD said she’d never seen Lone Wolf so mad.  I mostly said that now we know who’s won the Jackass of the Year award.

The part that makes this funny is that last night was a personal record for me for compliments from students.  They spontaneously applauded us at the end of the class.  I had several of them come up and tell me how much they enjoyed the class, how much they learned, that we’re fabulous teachers and they can’t wait to come back next week.  But the biggest compliment?  Almost the entire class stayed for the dance afterwards and practiced what they had just learned.  (Take that, ballroom-dancing jerk!)

Looking back at this entry, it’s kindof, um, whiney.  And annoyed.  Oh well.  I can’t be skipping through fields of daisies all the time.  The next post will be more cheerful, I promise.