irritation, the act of being irritated…

I woke up irritated and so it went from there. Actually, to tell the truth the irritation only started on the drive to work. The time spent at home before leaving had been quite pleasant. I had awoken to find that Mr FD had mopped the kitchen floor after I had fallen asleep early (he was expecting a visitor next morning, so don’t give him too much kudos!) and then I had a few minutes spare to play “I’m going to get you” with Augie Dog. It is a game that I actually played with our children when I told them I was going to catch them and then I would chase them. Higher order thinking indeed! In Augie’s case we, Augie and I, fight over his knotted rope until we are both exhausted.

So, Rising Irritation walked through the school yard gate with me. No particular reason, but by first break I felt my tension would be best eased by punching someone. I told my home class that I wanted to punch someone, and one of the girls offered the services of one of the boys, but he said, “no fair” and so I got to punch no one.

Laptops were rolled out to all year eight students today. Just to make them more dazed and confused we add school passwords to their memory load. Some were so nervous I expected to see puddles on the floor. If only they would LISTEN to what you were saying, but that is never going to happen. They do make you smile though.

One little chap came to the circulation desk and announced to Minerva that he would be in the back of the library with his laptop, and if we saw his friend, whom we would know because “he is wearing a shirt [school uniform] like mine and carrying a laptop bag [school issued] like mine” would we tell him where he was? Minerva actually managed to keep a straight face as she replied “Look outside the door. See how many boys are wearing the same shirt?” Still serious he continued, ”But we are grade eight!” Does that mean they are of lesser height, lesser brain, lesser sense and so easily identifiable? There are a hundred year eight boys all wearing the same shirt and carrying the same laptop bag. Minerva told him to wait outside for his friend…

My lunch was unsatisfactory, even though I brought it from home and its unsatisfactoryness was under my own control. There were too many interruptions, and I could never get to drink a cup of tea while it was still even remotely warm. The weather was humid and I was sweaty in my office. I had to stay back for another after school meeting. Mango got stuck in the gaps of my teeth. I could go on. I really could go on.

And now I am irritating myself as well.

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6 thoughts on “irritation, the act of being irritated…

  1. Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed. I chuckled when I read your last line, that you were irritating yourself. Been there. Have a better day. Lucy

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  2. If ever there was a reason for you to wield the Big Stick, this is one. The tension would have just melted away with a few decent THWACKS!

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  3. What, no one volunteered to step up and be punched by you? What sort of school is this? 😉

    A friend installed a punching bag in her garage for days like the one you’ve described. She also is a high school teacher and says there are days where she has to stay away from her own family, lest she end up being the subject of a tabloid headline. (“Teacher Drowns Spouse, Kids in Bath!”)

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