Humpty Dumpty

I started my new job. My brain hurts and I'm pretty certain I have brain matter leaking from my ears. Everything is so new and I am still me. I want to dress in my standard uniform of jeans and a t-shirt but I don't work at an alternative high school anymore. I might miss that aspect almost as much as I'll miss people.

Today I dressed for work in a skirt (!) and heels (!!!) and subjected myself to more torture with a computer program that is so all encompassing and humongous that there are not enough hours in the day to be trained in every aspect. In fact, it would probably take more than a couple of days. So instead of getting the necessary training, my colleagues decided to try baptism my fire and threw me to the sharks;

Mothers of junior high students wanting schedule changes. *

(*I changed my daughter's schedule later that day with her counselor at another school.)

The first day my head hurt from willing a class to magically fit itself into a slot where it wasn't offered or was full. I announced to my new colleagues that I kind of hated them and to please hide all sharp objects from me. I was considering poking something in my eye. 

I was not alone. Across the hall from me was another new counselor, although she does understand the computer program and scheduling. The brand new registrar's voice got louder and higher as the day wore on. Her Latina accent got stronger. She refused to hide any sharp objects. She wanted them for herself.

So while I dressed professionally this morning, the first words I uttered when I got into my office were, "So why is the rum gone?" This caused the administration (who don't know me well enough) to casually meander to my office to see if I really had stashed rum under my desk. 

In other big news, I kept the Sabbath day holy and was blessed. Completely out of eggs and milk because I forgot to go to the grocery store on Saturday (can we say STRESSED OUT?) but needed egg whites for my rolls to be shiny and chewy. Lo, and behold (oh yes, I did just say that), my oldest chicken, the survivor, produced her first egg.

I proudly and carefully carried it into the house and announced, "Behold! The $1,000 egg!" It was tiny and brown and beautiful. The egg white just barely covered all of my rolls.

7:00 a.m. on Monday morning, Scott went to the grocery store and returned with a carton of eggs and milk. He proudly introduced the 18 eggs to me and announced, "Behold! $2.19." 

I found his humor underwhelming.