If summer was a movie, this would be the part where I stare off pensively as a video montage regurgitates not-so exciting highlights over a melodramatic alt-rock soundtrack.
Generally speaking, I've been a lazy bum this summer. Outside of a handful of volunteer days, I didn't mark anything off my to-do list. As a result, the past two weeks of school preparation have been bananas. I decided to organize myself using a Google calendar, which is big news for someone as anal retentive and old school as myself. The upside, I'm organized and color coded. The downside, seeing my life in technicolor has made me slightly more anxious than usual. And when I say slightly, I mean I check the calendar incessantly to be sure I didn't accidentally delete something and/or to determine whether I'm supposed to be somewhere I'm not. My track record with all things electronic is not exactly stellar, and I no longer have the mental capacity to remember everything I'm supposed to do in a day. Nonetheless, the schedule is uploaded, bookbags are packed, and pencils sharpened.
And then the earthquake threw us literally and figuratively for a loop. Of all things I thought I'd live through, earthquake is not one of them. I should be thankful, really. Finally, I have weather related small-talk to discuss with my patients other than "it's not the heat, it's the humidity". And then, of course, there were the aftershocks.
Okay, so the only aftershock I actually felt was the one caused when my 98 year old patient farted on me as I transferred him from his wheelchair to the treatment chair. Oh, what an aftershock it was! Much like the earthquake, I wasn't sure what was happening at first. I recall looking around in disbelief, not only with regard to the volume of his flatulence, but also the duration. I'm fairly certain he rattled the windows. A little warning would've been nice...I think my mouth was open.
It's okay. You can laugh. Farts are still funny, even if you're grown.
I feel robbed by Hurricane Irene. Our winds weren't even strong enough to uproot the tree in my front yard, under which I eagerly parked my car. What does a girl have to do to get some car-totalling damage around here? All night I watched the storm creep up the coast, willing it to knock over that tree onto my car. But nooooo. Of course not. All that has amounted to the storm is a leaf-littered front yard and two days (and counting) off school.
I'm neurotic today because...
...tomorrow I begin another three month stretch with the Jersey Shore kids.
