Dear Diary, today I...
* Argued with the Cave Troll all the way to daycare. Pried him out of his carseat and gave his hand to the babysitter (who was holding Ladybug in the other arm) so I could flee out the front door without him following me, sobbing.
* Bawled all the way to work.
* Wondered how badly the prickweenie is going to fuck up the perfect schedule my (at the moment) beloved and canonized department heads have built for me next year.
* Tried to assure the other people at lunch that yes, the prickweenie does hate me worst of all.
* Managed to bring some of my grades to a level I shall define as 'unembarrassing'. Note that the lack of embarrassment is on my part. It should not, however, be felt on the part of my students.
* Took a picture of a student's hair-- he had his hairdresser carve a Spiderman spider + web into his hair. This was actually pretty awesome--I wish I could download my camera phone into the laptop--alas, no cords.
* Apologized to custodian as he came in--my 5th period (which I had for two hours today) had left the place looking like an orangutaun's literbox. Fucking oranguatauns.
* Left late from school to pick big T up from track. (He didn't do his homework while he was waiting. I guess we both had something to apologize for.)
* Picked up an ecstatic Cave Troll. Pried a despondent Ladybug from that nice daycare lady's arms. Told the daycare lady (a former student!) that yes, somedays, it sucks to be mom.
* Succumbed to T's enroute convincing that we really needed a bucket of nice non trans fat. Tried unfruitfully to convince T that the 'non-trans fat' part of that bucket didn't necessarily mean it was healthy. Bought it anyway. Fucking dishes.
* Succumbed to the Cave Troll's imperious order that I sing "The Wheels on the Bus" for the last 15 minutes of the one hour journey home. I can really only sing that song twice without losing it, so I started taking liberties with it. For example, I bet you didn't know that there's a crackhead, a wino, a bitter yuppie, a retired teacher, and a big fucking horse that doesn't know where to shit on that bus, did you?
* Got home. Took two minutes to read my one, beautiful, touchingly written and inspiringly timed fan letter from my up and running web site. Called Mate up, read it to him. Mate asked, "Well, can your head fit through the door still?"
* I told him we'd see in a minute, I had to bail, there was an accident involving Ladybug's futon and a chocolate milk that needed my attention immediately.
* As I hauled out the futon, with a yet-again-despondent Ladybug hauling ass after me and bitching at me in 1 year old for stealing her favorite seat, I thought that after two pieces of chicken my ass was another lb. closer to not fitting through the door.
* My head, however, fit just fine.