It's Mother's Day Eve, that most delightful night of the year, and I am in a bad mood.
Turns out I have a sump pit in my basement, but no pump. Said pit is almost full of water, and, as I may have said, I have no pump. This is a bit of a puzzle. I have the sneaking suspicion that it may also turn out to be a bit of an expensive puzzle. Not, however, as expensive a puzzle as a flooded basement would be.
I am currently reading three books, none of which is terribly diverting. I can't get into any of them and it's irritating me.
I started knitting a new project last night. First, I cast on the wrong number of stitches. Then I cast on the wrong number AGAIN. Then I screwed up the ribbing - ribbing! I ask you! - and ended up pulling the whole thing apart.
I have taken it into my head to learn a bit of Arabic, mostly so I can say things to my students like "Dude. That is a fire alarm. Do not pull it." (Don't laugh. It happened last week. On a rainy day, at lunch, of course. On the plus side, I got to see the cute firefighters come racing to the rescue.) I have decided to learn another language because I am just not busy enough.
I have more marking to do.
One of my students said to me "my mom says you're not a very good French teacher because we're doing this assignment in English." I have the urge to find out what that mother does for a living and criticize her. "You know, you're just not a very good cashier. How hard can it be?" The fact remains that doing the assignment in English means they'll actually learn something about French culture (which is a curriculum objective), and that their French is so limited they would not get anything out of it otherwise.
I am worrying about what that mother thinks of me.
If only there were a sump pump for one's brain. All those awful anxious unhappy thoughts could just get sucked up and poured out your ear, leaving your mind free and clear for the important things. Like how to say "Dude, don't pull the fire alarm" in Arabic.