It's spring term eve, which means disney should be selling a special commemorative mouse or dog or something, but as my students don't love me enough to buy me gifts i will have to cry myself to sleep tonight. I would say that these tears falling onto the cardboard box I have used for a pillow since my Academy froze our pay in 1250BC are unusual, but it would be a lie to proffer any other idea than that which is true: I cry. A lot.
And through these tearstruck eyes that blinker the outside world from view I can just about read, written on the side of a sodden Amazon box, my list of tasks i need to complete before i return to the hallowed halls of hubris and hefting humanity that is my alleged work(house)place. I reproduce this, shoddily no doubt, here.
1: Wipe internet search history normal history, temporary files and any incriminating photos. Check the dvd tray for THAT film and possibly consider just defaulting the whole machine to factory settings or encasing it in concrete, dropping it into a river and claiming to IT tech that you lost it/left it in the back of a taxi.
2: Shave off comedy facial/body hair
3: Check that the new piercing/tattoo(s) can be covered by current haircut or work wardrobe.
4: Change out of the pajamas that you've been wearing for three solid weeks.
5: Finish marking/ marking bonfire
6: Practice not swearing at everything.
7: Practice getting up before midday.
8: Read the book you're meant to be teaching/ watch the film of said book/ read the wikipedia/ImDb summary of the film of said book.
9: Sober up.
10: Kiss goodbye to your loved ones/pets/photos of celebrities. You won't be seeing them until February.
11: Stock up on comfort food/booze/kleenex
12: Book that first counseling session of the year.
13: Cry. Aimlessly and at length.
14: Apply for a new job/Uni course/The Dole
15: Fabricate a convincing cover story to tell in the staffroom/classroom to explain that scar.
There you go. Plenty to be getting on with. I'm going to pick out my wardrobe for the next few days so that i can essentially operate on autopilot.
Cheers. Here is to blessed, half-awake absolution.