13 December 2007

You're gonna get your fingers burned

Watch me closely, be aware
That all I do is only to surprise you
Every move is sleight of hand
And every word is planned to mystify you

Burnout. Everything I write is itchy and awkward, like a bad sweater.

I can't stop yawning and I can't get warm. The former because I am suddenly paralyzingly exhausted for no especially good reason. The latter because I'm too cheap to turn up the heat, and I can't seem to remember to add more layers.

"It was 35 degrees this morning!" the checker at Trader Joe's exclaimed to me.

I need to plan a holiday party for the fifth grade class. It only needs to last 40 minutes, but again...paralysis. Burnout. I cannot muster the energy to assign a cheese tray or fruit plate or find someone to donate some cunning little snowman plates. A game. You want I should figure out a game for them to play? Oh noooooooooooooooo...

Must write a letter to those parents. By tomorrow morning.

The remainder of this year is yawning, too. Like a giant consuming maw. The son needs new glasses. Everyone still needs a flu shot. Then there's that holiday thing.


Doesn't yawning indicate lack of oxygen? Perhaps I should just stop holding my breath.

I'm mishearing things with a vengeance.

"I just finished testing your daughter on science," the spouse tells me severely. "Rhizoids, ferns, and liverwurst."

"Liverwurst?" I ask in mystification. Is there a secret relationship between rhizoids and liverwurst of which I am unaware? Did I drink too much wine with dinner?

For the last week, my whereabouts in 2008 has been a hot topic of conversation. Right now, it looks like I'm going to be everywhere.

"But you can't drive a car in 2008," the son told me today. "You can't be in a car."

"I can't walk down the street," I laughed.

"I guess you just have to stay in the house all year," he grinned.

"A car will crash into the house," I told him.


Must write that letter. NOW.


And who the heck messed up my header, Blogger? I know this one wasn't me.

Go listen to some good music: "You're Gonna Get Your Fingers Burned" from the album Eye in the Sky by the Alan Parson Project.

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