Dear Self,
No matter how itchy you are, do not take Benadryl past 10 pm, or you will be unable to rip yourself out of the coma the following morning until well past 7 am.
Sincerely,
yeah.

I am officially the world’s slowest walker. Seriously. I was out there for an hour today, and only managed something like 2.8 miles. I attribute it to my short little legs. For every step that my husband takes, I have to take three just to keep up.

Today’s walk was pretty good, though. Here’s a map (you have to click to enlarge, and oddly I keep seeing a swastika-like shape appearing there… sorry folks):

The pink X is where our house is. The orange X is where my brother’s family lives (for now. Have I mentioned they’re moving? They are, at the beginning of July). The red lines are the first part of my walk (yes they’re all crooked, no, I’m not drunk when I go out walking although that might possibly help me to walk faster), the blue ones are the second part (when I decided that my stupid crooked lines were stupid so I’d use the little line-making tool on Paint even though it makes it look like I went off the road and cut through peoples’ yards). I probably should have put a measurement of some type on there so that you could see how far everything is, but rest assured that when I mapped it out on Google Pedometer it came to 2.84 miles.
I have to admit that I did cheat in there. You can see that my brother’s house is along the way, and as I went past their house one of my nephews came running out and had me come inside for a bit. They are very excited because their parents’ new king-sized mattress is in the dining room right now (in preparation for the move), still wrapped in plastic. And they think it is perfect for wrestling. Then my brother wanted to show me pictures of the new place that they’ll be sharing with our folks. I have to say, it’s a gorgeous house, structurally. Of course there are yellow fixtures in the bathroom. There’s shag carpeting in all the bedrooms (the youngest nephew thinks it’s “viewtiful!” and likes to pet it). And the piece de resistance: the entire kitchen is covered with some… interesting… wallpaper. Let’s just say that the house was built in the early 70s, and it shows, but that’s all cosmetic stuff and again, structurally, it’s a great place. Their plans are to go and take all the carpeting out of my parents’ side of the house before they move in, which is good, what with Dad’s respiratory issues. Mom and Dad are putting in hardwood on their side. And my brother take the carpets up in all the bedrooms on his side, too. He also has longer-term plans to change out the bathroom fittings, and to take the wallpaper down and put up a stainless steel backsplash in the kitchen (their appliances – fridge and stove – are stainless steel). I am super excited for them.
Anyway, so in the middle of my walk, I stopped for probably half an hour, to see the wrestling ring and the pictures of their new place. And as I was in their house the sun came out and it got really warm, so the rest of the walk was spent with me being all “uuugh, it’s too warm in my sweatpants and sweatshirt!” which I had foolishly put on because it’s usually pretty cool here earlier in the day, and that’s when I generally do my ass-dragging. And thinking ahead enough to wear a t-shirt under my sweatshirt? Totally not my style.

On the agenda for the rest of the day: we’re going grocery shopping, and I am going to put my marks in (they’re due on Tuesday).

I CAN’T BELIEVE THERE ARE ONLY SIX TEACHING DAYS LEFT!
Okay that’s about all I had to say (oh, except there are more pics of the cutest puppy ever in my life up at Flickr if you want to gaze upon the adorableness).

Me: … and that’s what I’m going to do.
Him: You are so wise!
Me: Yep, I have a LOT of wisdom. SO MUCH wisdom.
Him: So that’s why you have big boobs!
Me: Huhwha?
Him: You know. Extra wisdom storage receptacles!

This next couple of weeks are going to be super-busy ones (more so than usual) This weekend I have to get some of my grades in – need to have them in by Tuesday. The other 2/3 will have to be done next weekend (they’re due on Monday the whateverth). Which means I have a bunch of information that I need to get into these kids’ heads by next week. School is over for them on the 25th (my birthday!) but I am there until the 30th.

And then… two months off!

Sort of.

Things that have to be done (work-wise, not “my own real life” wise) this summer:

-Cleaning my classroom and getting rid of a bunch of crap that the teacher before the previous teacher left in there that is from the 70s and no longer usable. That will take at least a few (hot, sweaty, dusty) 8-hour day because I swear, this dude was a packrat.

- Planning my year (okay this one is a bit easier because I’ve done some of this stuff for three or four years so I can follow what I’ve done in previous years).

- Making up a whole new curriculum for my subject. This one’s going to be the tough one. And yeah, I’m not doing it all on my own – there are four of us on the committee. But it’s like, a huge responsibility – I mean, I’m not just doing this for myself, but for the whole province. They’ve decided that it’s going to be totally different subject matter too – instead of Canadian history, it’s going to be about ancient civilizations. Something I’ve never really studied in depth. I AM ASKEERT.

BUT! I will also be hanging out with that little cute puppy, and hopefully seeing some sunshine, and… yeah. Good times!

Do you know what?

JUNE BUGS I HATE THEM.

I’m not generally an “ewww! spiders!” type of gal. Insects don’t tend to bother me. But june bugs? No thank you.

I SAID NO THANK YOU!

Not only are they crazily flying at our windows at all hours of the night, trying to get in because of the lights, but somehow one actually managed to get in past our tip top security and, as I sat trying to watch Harper’s Island last night, it decided to rear up out of the wherever it was hiding and FLY AT MY FACE.

And then? It landed on my head. Luckily I was wearing a bandanna, but it was up there, and it wouldn’t leave, and I was sort of freaking out. Finally it flew off my head and Rob grabbed a shoe and was chasing it around (“You think I don’t see you? I see you you little… now just land so I can kill you!”) while I sort of lay here twitching in a grossed-out coma. Then he killed it and threw its carcass outside to warn off all the other june bugs out there. They’d better take heed. Flip flops be deadly, yo.
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Do you have people in your life who only ever contact you when they want something?
I’m pretty sure everyone has… Mine’s a guy I knew in university. He’s basically been like this for years – we went on like, two dates, decided that we didn’t really want to date, but that we’d still be friends, and I didn’t hear from him again until I had moved to a city where he could visit and stay on my couch. He’d be like “Hey, I haven’t seen you in awhile! How about I come and visit! It’ll be great to hang out” and I’d say yes, then he’d come up, drop off his stuff, and off he’d go to hang out with friends. I wouldn’t see him all weekend except for when he was ready to sleep or pick up his stuff. It took me a couple of his visits to get wise to it (yeah, not too swift), and from then on, thanks to Caller Display, I avoided being his free Bed & Breakfast.
Well, he has recently re-found my email address, and I’ve been receiving a barrage of emails about his new business. It’s a multi-level marketing type of thing – which means, basically, that he wants to sell me stuff. Of course he’s been ‘personalizing’ the emails (I’ve read a few. Now I just delete them). “Louise, I think this shampoo would be great for you! It will bring out the highlights in your hair” (uh, yeah. Bald? Thanks). “Louise, try our new fat burners… they’ll really help you get rid of the extra junk in your trunk” (Oh golly. Please leave my trunk out of all future correspondence). “I’ve been thinking about how much you used to love going to the movies. Our secret listening device will help you to hear every line!” (guuuuuuuuh).
I blocked his emails this morning… I’d been looking around on his website and don’t want to get the email where he somehow ties in the 120-day toilet bowl cleaner to our relationship.

Today’s walk included waking up at 5:45, instead of 6, and also? JOGGING. Granted the jogging lasted all of 60 seconds, but it was jogging nonetheless. I also encountered a skunk (not the reason for the jogging) but he pretty much just trundled off to his own home after looking at me for a few minutes. And then I got home, and watched this, which I thought was a nice thing to share with you on a Friday morning:

” You need to pull up your pants.”
“Why do I need to pull up my pants?”
“Everyone can see half your underwear. You need to pull up your pants.”
“I’m not pulling up my pants! This is the style! They’re boxers!”
“We are in a government building. There is a dress code here, which you are not following. I don’t want to see your underwear. No one else wants to see your underwear. You need to pull up your pants.”
(eyeroll)”Whatever. It’s not illegal in Canada!”

6 am: Alarm rings. I whine. I take my temperature.
6:05: Get out of bed. Get dressed.
6:15-6:30: Mark down my temperature. Stare at the wall.
6:30: Go outside. Walk around. Notice birds. Occasionally get greeted by Missy, a dog down the street whose owner doesn’t leash her and who likes to run and jump up on me. Sometimes I see things that people are throwing out that are still Perfectly Good. If I’m on my way back to the house, I grab them up. Yeah, I’m a garbage picker, what of it? I’ve gotten two planters and two end tables in the past two weeks.
7:00: Get back to the house. Go fool with the garden.
7:10: Back inside. Sit on the sofa and stare around for a bit.
7:15: Shower
7:30: Get dressed.
7:40: Go snuggle Rob for a couple of minutes and say goodbye.
7:45: Leave for work.

Wasn’t that fascinating?

I came home for lunch, made a sandwich, and promptly got mustard all over my top. I ran and put my shirt in the washing machine. I am currently going around the house in my capris and bra while I wait for it to dry*. It’s a very exciting time.

Me: Rob, how do you like my outfit? Isn’t it great?
Rob: Oh yeah, you should totally go to work like that. Who needs shirts?
Me: Do you especially love how the waist of these pants is so high that the top of my pants is touching the bottom of my bra?
Rob: That’s a very… good… fashion.
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