I’ve technically been on summer break for a week now.
The week before Memorial Day I packed up my classroom (everything in every room had to be packed up so they can deep clean over the break), posted grades, said goodbye to the kiddos and to the many colleagues who are changing jobs after this year from hell, and came in second place in the Crazy Hair Day competition:
The kids were sweet, and many gave me end-of-year gifts (SO many Starbucks gifts cards!). They also gave me a cold.
It hit over the weekend, so I had just enough time to enjoy a dinner (in a restaurant!) with Brynn before being walloped upside the head with a cold that knocked me out for a week.
I tested negative for CoVid (yay, vaccines!). I was able to drag myself out of the house long enough to go to the wellness check doctor’s appointment I had booked weeks ago. I called to see if I should still come in since I was sick. They said, “You have a cold? You’re a teacher? Summer just started? Yup, sounds about right.” (They also said, when I did the mental health questionnaire, that my depression score was “pretty good for a teacher.” Which raised a whole lot of questions from me that I didn’t feel the nurse could answer.)
I also dropped my car off and picked up a rental. I was rear-ended a few weeks ago:
My wee hatchback vs. a giant pickup truck with metal bars on the front meant a crumpled trunk door, the annoyance of getting it fixed, and a two-day headache for me, and not even a scratch for the other fellow. At least he was nice, had insurance, and was quick to admit fault (although, given that I was sitting at a red light when he hit me, that would have been hard not to do).
Aside from those two tasks, though, my first week of summer passed in a haze of coughing, naps, reruns of Psych and Derry Girls, and repeated gratitude that I didn’t have to debate whether to go to work.
The cats mostly ignored me. I’m not sure if that’s because they were social distancing or because at some point I became one with the couch and ceased to exist for them outside of their wet food feeding time. Mog kept up her vigilant battle against small piece of paper by knocking cough drop wrappers off my bedside table and shredding them in the night:
While Hela, as always, courts danger with her curiosity: