Bring me a drink

"That's it! This is the year I become an alcoholic!"

My work friends are laughing and nodding as we flee from the meeting, and oh, I'm smiling too, but I think perhaps they underestimate my the gravity of my intentions. I mean, if people are going to make it this damn hard, then what the hell else is there to do? As the queen of I'll just do it my own self, thanks, I'm no fan of the endless committee, the stupid question, or the doomed-by-consensus plan. And, yet, I'm in education! Go figure.

Of course, near as I can tell, education these days is only about going to meetings and filling out forms, and people are fixated. Testy. Spent. It's like Catch-22 Animal Farm, circa 1984. It's not my old school, not what we signed up for, though we're trying, really, from the principal on down. But people feel disorganized and at loose ends and overwhelmed with what they have to do (it's like everyone's me!), so morale is on the watch list. Some people love trouble, most of us long for normal, but that kid is skipping, long gone, truant for the year. It kinda sucks, and for once, I cannot blame George W., or even my rambunctious 8th block class. (Shut up, Maxi.). It just is what it is, state-sanctioned-non-religious heaven help us 'til Spring. And today was November dark and cold and rainy and Monday. The kind of day that motivates one to start the Christmas list early: Dear Santa, Please bring me a flask.