Even writing it down makes me tired

I'm pretty sure that when I graduate and get a "real job," it's going to feel like a vacation.

Here was my day today:

Wake up at 5:45 a.m. Spend half an hour trying to become human. Get Adrienne up at 6:15, then spend the next 45 minutes running around like maniacs getting ready for school. Nick stayed home today.

Head over to the sheriff's office to be fingerprinted for my substitute license.

Get to school by 8 a.m. Tell the vice principal that I have to leave a little early to get Nick to the doctor for his sports physical. Take my student to her work study for an hour, come back and teach second hour. Talk to Kevin during lunch and realize that he can't come bring Nick to town for his appointment because the Dish Network dude is coming this afternoon. He's supposed to be there by noon, but has to come from Vegas and has called to say it'll be three before he gets to us. Tell my vice-principal that I have to leave earlier than I thought, all the while repressing some serious anxiety about sitting in her office in the first place. Since I'm there anyway, give my December 1 notice. (I'm afraid my student might not actually move, and I'm not spending $250 for a license that I'm not going to use.) Teach third period.

Leave school at 2:10 and drive home to get Nick. Kiss my baby and my husband, then head back to town. Spend at least 30 minutes getting Nick signed in, cursing under my breath about inter mural basketball and how is that different from PE anyway...mumble mumble grumble.

Meet Kevin in the parking lot of the clinic after he's picked up Adrienne who has had to wait for half an hour at school and is grumpy as all hell. Seems the boy she likes, whose mother is the school secretary, wasn't hanging around this afternoon. Boo. Kevin takes all three kids home.

Run like hell to my class at the college. Get there fifteen minutes late. I'm the only Ely student, the class is broadcast via internet. So I'm coming in late on live TV in classrooms in Elko and Pahrump and Winnamucca. Apologize profusely. Enjoy the class, it's one of the best I've taken (it's a short, four session course on substitute teaching strategies.)

Drive home, talking on the phone to Kevin most of the way about how Nick isn't cooperating with him and how Adrienne is still pissy and the baby is screaming in the background about something or the other.

Get home at about 7, make dinner. Talk to my dad about him and his wife coming to visit for Veteran's Day (his wife is a teacher.) Make arrangements for Adrienne to stay in town tomorrow morning, because her drama rehearsal runs from 10 a.m. to noon and my class goes from 10 to 2.

Eat dinner and get Ruby to sleep. Promise myself to spend all day Sunday with her. Swear to take her to the park if it's warm enough. Finally relax and watch Mr. Holland's Opus with Adrienne, which makes me bawl like a baby and decide I DEFINITELY want to be a teacher. (Until tomorrow, when something is likely to make me decide to be a social worker.)

I wanted to write today. I wanted to exercise. There just aren't enough hours. Never mind the beating myself up over my daily contribution to Global Warming and the fact that I need to read a novel for my history class by Sunday and I haven't even cracked the book.

I guess I can't do much about being busy. But I can write. Right now.