It’s not six pm yet, and I’m ready to go to sleep. I’m trying to tough it out until at least nine, but the way it’s going right now I’m not sure how long I’ll make it.

Last night was Meet the Creature. In theory it’s only supposed to last from 7 until 8, but in reality, I had to get there at 6:30, go to the gym for the little spiel from the principal and all those dudes, then back to my classroom to meet my students’ parents. That was only supposed to last 15-20 minutes (10 min. talking to my homeroom parents, the rest of the time, just for parents of kids I teach who are in other homerooms to come and meet me). Of course it never only lasts 15 minutes – I got out of there near 9:30. An hour and a half longer than it was supposed to last.

So this morning, I was dragging when it came time to go to work. When I got there one of my girls was freaking out because someone had “broken in” to her locker and “stolen” her Acneticin pills. After going through a whole long thing, involving getting her a new lock, it turns out she’d just put them in her gym bag. Was told by a kid in grade 7, during our second class together, that I “suck” because we weren’t playing games today (we hadn’t played a game last time, either, so I don’t know where she got the idea that we would be today). Dealt with that. Had lunch duty. Went to the computer lab with my last class of the day only to find out that the website that the department wants us to use, and which subsequently I’d planned my entire class around, wasn’t working because the Internet was down. Pulled a whole new lesson out of my butt. Corrected three class sets of quizzes (about 90).

When I finally got home (it seemed like it was midnight! But it was only 5-ish) all I wanted to do was become one with the sofa… except that Rob has been taking care of the dogs all day and taking them for walks and such so now it was my turn. He cooked supper though (yum pizza) and now we are putting our legs on each other on the sofa and watching Supernatural. So that’s that.

I still think I’ll probably be asleep by 8.

I don’t think I mentioned it on here, but last year, I had some medical tests done that showed that I was having problems with my liver. I won’t go into it here, because it’s ongoing and it’s not something I particularly want to talk about. But I will say this:

All that business started me thinking. Thinking about life and the possible end thereof leads to thinking about life insurance leads to thinking about your own funeral*. You know, because that’s how everyone’s mind works, not just mine (I think I might be mental. That or just morbid. Or mental).

So you know how people are always saying that they don’t want their funeral to be sad, that they want people laughing and having fun at their funerals? Yeah, not me, sorry. When I die? I want people to be sad. I will be PISSED if they’re not.

I mean, obviously I’ll be dead so I won’t be there to witness it but for crap’s sake! I want my friends and family to cry the Ugly Cry. I want the boogers and the sobbing. The people throwing themselves on my casket and knowing that they just can’t go on without the awesomeness of Louise in their lives. Totally devastated and hopeless without me.

Okay, so maybe not suicidal, but depressed? Hells to the yes. MISS ME, people!

Now, there can be drinking, of the maudlin “drowning one’s sorrows”, everyone singing She Moved Through The Fair and Oh Danny Boy weeping, voices breaking at the high notes variety.

But when I die? Don’t throw any effing parties. I mean it.

* I am not dying. Don’t worry.

Anyway. Remember the other day when I wrote that I had a new wig?

Here are my new styles:

I don’t know about the colour/cut, but I’ve been told it’s okay so I will take peoples’ word for it. I never know about anything along those lines. I need some kind of professional to tell me what haircolour to have, what clothes to buy, etc. I would be a celebrity (if I had talent, and if celebrity didn’t involved actually having to go out in public) just so that I could have a stylist. Although stylists don’t always guarantee that you look good.

Okay so. I haven’t had a pedicure in, well, ever in my life (unless you count ones I give to myself). And my feet? They’re like hooves. It’s because I hate wearing socks and shoes so basically from April until at the earliest, October, I am wearing sandals and no sock, (or I’m barefoot, because that’s what I like best, it’s just not appropriate at the grocery store). I always tell Rob that a good birthday/Christmas/whatever present would be a gift certificate to go in and get a pedicure because I would like to be not embarassed by my ugly feet. Then I think of something else I’d rather have and forget all about it.

This evening I was reminded of those pedicures people get where fish eat the dead skin off their feet. I’ve been morbidly fascinated by this, and actually thought that maybe it would be the kind of thing I might try, if it were even available in Canada.

But now? Not so much.

My dogs have just spent 20 minutes licking my feet and it has squicked me out so much that I’m not going to be having any fish anywhere near my toes, thank you very much.

Well, the day is done. There were a bunch of meetings, and then we got to spend some time in our classrooms. Last year I asked for an LCD projector for my classroom. I got built-in bookshelves instead. That’s fine, though – with an average of 35 students per class, there’s not much room for freestanding shelves. These ones are beneath my whiteboard so they save space for me.

After work I stopped at my brother’s house to pick up some dogtag things my brother had made for Sprocket and Doozer. My nephews were there, playing dressup. My oldest nephew always says that he wants to be a doctor, so after my surgery the nurses in the recovery room gave me a disposable gown, hairnet thingy, and disposable shoe covers for him (actually they gave me two sets, because I said that his younger brother would be jealous). The boys were wearing them, and playing Operation. It was awesome.

When I came home the dogs were all “Oh, you again.” (just kidding, they were totally excited). Rob was also excited. Because he got to see me! I was excited, too, because a new wig arrived in the mail! My last one (the one I got in June) was pretty gross and someone who I post with on a hairloss website had this one that she had only worn once and decided it wasn’t for her, so she sent it to me. It’s a different colour and cut than what I’m used to, but change can be good.

And now, with all that buildup, I am so not putting up a picture of myself in it right now, because it’s hot, I don’t want to put it on my head, and it’s 7 pm and I’m ready for my pjs.

My vacation officially ends today. I go back to work tomorrow, officially (I’ve been going in over the summer, but that’s on my own time). The kids will be back on Tuesday, all freshly scrubbed and wishing that instead of having to take notes by hand, they had netbooks (actually, wait, that’s me. I wish I had a netbook in my classroom. Instead there’s a big clunky desktop from 2001 that won’t open pdf’s). I have high hopes for a good year.

I fervently wish there hadn’t been so much suckage included in the summer, but there were plenty of bright spots as well. We celebrated my birthday, and Rob’s (2 months later, he wants me to point out. I will correct him and say it’s one and a half months, thank you). We were lucky to be invited to attend the wedding of two wonderful people. We celebrated our third wedding anniversary, and we’re looking forward to celebrating many, many more together.

But, honestly? I think the best part of the summer was bringing home these two dudes:

As much as I love my job, I will definitely be wishing I was home with them and Rob by about noon.

(okay that title sounded all weirdly emo – I’m fine, I’m fine. I just have that song stuck in my head)

Okay so. I’ve been pretty grumpy lately thinking about all the infertility stuff. Today, though, I remembered that something awesome is coming.
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