Well, it's the Monday of a three day work week for me, and I must say that I'm pretty psyched for a four day weekend! I hope, hope, hope that the weather stays nice. Normally fall gives me this doom-like feeling that we're all going to be frozen solid on the side of the road waiting for AAA to come by and give us a jump. Strangely enough I don't really feel that way this year. I'm not sure if it's the weather, LOVE, or job happiness, or what... I'm going to ride this good fall feeling as long as I can. Oh yeah, school is great. No more bomb threats lately. The kids are great and I'm especially enjoying my art club. They're funny and smart and especially proud of themselves for thinking up things to shock me. I'm not as easily shocked as I used to be (after being married to Zander for four years), so I do my best to indulge them and ACT shocked. So yeah, I'm still enjoying working with these high school people, yes, even the somewhat LOUD Irondale lovies that read this blog regularly.
On Wednesday night Zander and I are planning on renting a sander to get all of the paint off of our basement floor. What kind of wine goes with home improvement? Maybe some Grateful Red? Anyway, the paint has been peeling like crazy and it's so disgusting to take a shower down there and then have to clean the paint chips off my feet before I can put my socks on. Paint chips stuck in the toe of my tights on regular basis is no way to live. I think it's going to be a really hard and dirty job getting underneath all of the stuff that's accumulated down there already, but hopefully well worth it.
In other news, I'm injured. Somehow (I don't remember falling or anything else that I'd associate with this kind of pain) I hurt my tailbone and now my whole body is paying the price. It sounds like an exaggeration, but seriously, tailbone stuff sucks. It hurts to sit almost as much as it does it stand up, and that hurts almost as much as it does to cough or sneeze. I've been trying to cure myself by doing some yoga stretching, but I'm almost to the point where I'm going to call the doctor. Poor me and poor Zander for having to hear about the status of my butt every time he turns around.