Gross

Case, Siahna, and I went for a walk last night while Shannon took Jeff out for his birthday dinner. Case was on his scooter, and I was pushing Siahna in the stroller. As we walked down the trail, Case yelled, "Dido, did I ever tell you we saw a snake here once?"

(Why is it snakes have been a topic on my blog far too often in the past month?)

"No, you never told me that. Was it big?"

He proceeded to describe the snake. I was grossed out. "But you know what else we saw that was even grosser?"

My mind went to a giant snake eating a mouse. Or a pile of poop. Or a kid throwing up.

"We once walked by this bench and someone had thrown their trash on the ground. Isn't that gross?!?!"

Good job, buddy. I love that you care about our environment. That certainly is pretty gross.

He continued, "Doesn't that person know that there's a trash can right around the corner? Don't they know that the trash doesn't belong on the ground but goes in the trash? I just don't understand why someone would throw trash on the ground."

Me neither. If a five year old can figure it out, why can't adults?

Lesson Required

I picked up my phone as it rang. It was Josh.

"How do you make a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"You take two pieces of bread. Put butter on each side..."

"Yeah, well, I already made it. And it sucked."

"Sucked how? Like you burnt it? Or you didn't cook it long enough and it was soggy?"

"How high should the heat be on? Because I turned it on high. And then I let the pan heat up. I then put the bread on, and it burned to the pan. When I tried to take it off the pan, the buttered part of the bread stuck to the pan."

My poor, sweet, bachelor boyfriend.

Even or Odd?

I thought I was normal. For 31 years, I thought everyone was like me in regards to the volume on a TV. All it took for me to figure out I'm odd was a boyfriend. A boyfriend who leaves the volume number on an odd number.

Josh turned the volume to 17.

Me: "Umm, you can't do that."
Josh: "Do what?"
Me: "Leave the volume on an odd number. It has to be an even number."
Josh: "According to who?"
Me: "According to me, duh. The volume has to be on an even number. So either turn it up one or down one. But you can't leave it on 17."

Imagine Josh laughing so hard he can barely breath. Imagine this laughter for minutes.

But Josh doesn't turn the volume up or down. He leaves it. On 17. An odd number. Just to watch me twitch.

I try so hard to concentrate on what's playing, but all I can think about is the odd number.

I finally grab the remote and turn it up one. Perfect. 18. An ideal volume number.

Josh calls me odd. Ironic, don't you think, since I don't even like the odd numbers.

Going Postal

For the first time in my life, I fully understand the meaning of the phrase "going postal."

For those who don't know the term or have never experienced it, it is defined as "becoming extremely and uncontrollably angry, often to the point of violence, and usually in a post office."

I almost went postal the last time I was at the post office, and now I understand why people lose their cool.

If you've ever visited a post office, especially a post office in a large city or suberb, you know what I mean. You don't even have to keep reading.

Let me describe the Downtown Littleton post office. It's on Main Street. It's the only post office within miles of the area. It's ALWAYS packed. There is very little parking around it, so just to get inside is a hassle.

And there is never more than one person working at a time.

Not only is there only one person working, but he/she could care less that there are 4,598,395,394 people standing in line (it's almost always a guy). He is never friendly. He is as slow as molasses. He will shut his window down at any given moment if his shift is over (again, with no regards to the people standing in line waiting for help). He will spend 10 minutes with the same person. He will take a small break inbetween helping people. You get the idea.

When I arrived (with Case), there were only two people in front of me! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! This NEVER happens, so I was thrilled, especially since Case was with me.

I had one package to mail, and my transaction would take less than a minute.

Thirty minutes later, I was finally walking out of the post office.

The first customer in line had been on vacation for two weeks. She was there to get her held mail. The man dissapeared into the back hole, and 10 minutes later he returned with an arm load of mail.

But wait, this woman wasn't done!

She then said, "Oh, I had a note on my door that said I had a package waiting for me here. Can you go find it?"

Him: "Do you have that note? I need the number on it to track your package."

Her: "No, I didn't bring it."

Him: "Well, then I can't just go find your package. I need that number so I know where to locate the package."

Her: "Well, I don't have it, so can you just go look?"

Him: Sigh. "Fine, I'll be back."

He dissapeared again for another 5 minutes. He came back with empty hands (SHOCKER).

Him: "I need that number to find it."

Her: "I really don't want to come back again. Are you sure you looked everywhere? Will you please go back one more time to try to find it?"

Now, I'm a pretty calm person. I rarely lose my cool, but at this moment, I was about to go postal. My blood was boiling. My hands were starting to shake. I could feel myself losing control.

The man and woman went back and forth on the issues. In the meantime, the woman had been sorting through her mail. In her pile was another notice about her package. Finally, the man could find her package in the back (since he now had the tracking number).

He took off to find it.

Keep in mind, this woman had been at the counter for 20 minutes (not even kidding). Ten minutes to get her mail. Five minutes to look for this lost package. Five minutes to discuss the package. Once he had the tracking number, he was gone for another 10 minutes. No joke.

He returned empty handed. "Are you sure this notice is for this post office?"

Her: "Oh, you know what?! I bet it's for the post office closer to my house. Yeah, you're right. It wouldn't be here. Thanks for your help."

I just. about. exploded.

Snakes on a Plane (or a classroom)

I celebrated my birthday today with Liz, Lauren, Frankie, Shannon, Case, Siahna, several other co-workers, and a....snake! Yep, another snake was in the school today, and it was too close to home.

The last snake was a rattlesnake, but it was (in the perspective of a neighborhood) about five houses down the block from my classroom. Way too close for comfort, and it caused a great amount of anxiety in my body, but I survived.

(I still watch the ground and watch for snakes wherever I go).

Today, I enjoyed lunch with my friend, Lauren, a 1/4 mile (literally) from my own room. After great conversations, presents, and dessert, I wandered back to my room. Upon arrival, my friend Liz was in the hallway blocking the way to my room. There were also about 15 students hanging out, two teachers, two assistant principals, and the head principal.

Liz quickly grabbed my shoulders and said, "Shiloh, I have something to tell you. You can't go in there. Don't freak out."

Well, too late. I was already freaking out. Why, I didn't know, but I was.

Liz continued, "There's a snake in Audrey's room." (In neighborhood terms, Audrey is not only my neighbor, but she's in the apartment less than three feet away from my front door). So in other words, there's a snake practically in my room. (I can read between the lines).

I was definitely freaking out now. And to make matters worse, Liz continued, "They can't find the snake. As the kids fled the room, the snake disappeared. They have been in there for 50 minutes looking for it, but it could be anywhere right now." She also said she volunteered to break the news because she knows of my hatred of snakes.

I almost resigned on the spot.

To make a long story short, I made it into my classroom and found a spot on a chair with my feet off the ground. (They are lucky I made it that far into my classroom). That's from where I taught my class. The kids sang happy birthday. We had a cupcake to celebrate. Kids asked to get a drink. I said yes. Three kids left my room. As they opened my door into the hallway, they all screamed.

"Ms. Nichols, the snake is in the hallway. Wait, now it's going into the classroom. Quick, do something."

The most they got out of me was a call to the front office. "Please get a janitor down here NOW," I demanded.

The janitor came. A math teacher used a golf club to corral the snake. They caught the snake. They released the snake outside.

I stayed on my chair with my feet off the ground, and I can guarantee I will never set foot in Audrey's classroom again!

Nasty Creatures

I just don't know if I can work at Chatfield anymore. My heart is racing, my ears are on high alert for any sound, and I am afraid to go into the hallways.

You see, when school started three weeks ago, the janitor sent an email saying that there was a high number of mice in the school. The reason there were so many mice in the school was because there was a high number of snakes outside the school, which were causing the mice to come inside for safety. Not only were there a lot of snakes, but they were rattlesnakes.

"If you happen to take your class outside for any reason, you need to stay on the sidewalks and be on high alert for any movement."

That settles it. My class will NEVER go outside again.

The mice don't bother me much, so I continued on with my teaching. In fact, I actually have a pet mouse in my classroom already (remember my story?). My friend, Lauren, however, refuses to go the bathroom in the school because a mouse was recently found playing in one. She's not a big fan of the mice, to say the least.

Well, my life changed yesterday. As students filed into the classroom for 5th hour, they were full of excitement and news.

"There was a snake in the hallway. We thought it was a garter snake, so we started playing with it. But then it had fangs and tried to bite us, and we realized it was a rattlesnake. It was just a baby, so we picked it up and called a janitor to come take it away."

Panic started setting in. They showed pictures. I started sweating. I had tears in my eyes. I almost didn't leave my room for the rest of the day.

While they did warn us about a snake problem, they never said the snakes would be IN the building, and I am having a very hard time sitting here at my desk. My feet are off the floor, I can assure you of that!

Rescue

I went for a walk last night (not because I wanted to but because I promised my boyfriend I would). I departed my apartment with a brisk pace, and I headed down the street. Music blasting in my ears, I decided to make the best of my walk.

As I rounded the corner by McDonald's, I noticed a woman lying in the grass. Actually, I would not say lying. I would say sprawled out on the grass as if she'd been attacked or she had passed out. Her flip flops were scattered on the sidewalk. She was face first in the grass. Her feet were blackened as if she'd been running barefoot. An arm was draped over the portion of her face that wasn't faceplanted in the grass.

My heart started racing.

I was going to have to rescue this woman on my walk.

This made for a much more exciting walk than I originally anticipated.

A car who had turned the corner saw this same woman and came to a stop beside her. They were doing as I had just done: seeing if the woman was breathing, was OK, was injured, was alive, was sleeping, or was injured.

I was happy to see I was going to have help in rescuing this lady, especially since I had left my phone at home.

Then the car drove off.

I was left on my own to save a woman's life!

I approached castiously. "Ma,am," I said. "Are you okay?"

Nothing. No movement, response.

Now my heart was really pumping. I had never had to save a woman's life before.

A little bit louder, I said, "Ma'am, are you okay?" I moved to shake her arm when she stirred. She opened her eyes. She looked up at me looking down at her. She removed her earbuds (which is obviously why she couldn't hear me the first time), looked at me and said, "Oh, I'm fine. I was just taking a nap on the grass."

Oh, well that explains why you look dead, why your flip flops are strewn across the sidewalk, why you didn't move when I asked you if you were okay, why you're faceplanted in the grass in front of McDonald's. That explains everything.

I didn't get to save a life after all. And, I had to finish my walk.