Pseudo Hookie

I have decided, in my unselfish way, to make you feel better about your life by sharing all of the details of my day playing hookie.

First of all, I woke up overcome with a familiar guilt, one that doesn't let you fully enjoy your freedom and makes you want to get as high as a kite on illegal substances to avoid it. (One day I will tell you about the time I inflicted pain on myself to avoid taking a high school Chemistry test.) Every time I heard a voice on the answering machine I was certain it was the school secretary, fronting for the principal, calling to ask me some detail that I forgot to put in my substitute teacher packet. I am highly attuned to surveillance.

Wanting to assuage the guilt somewhat, I decided to tackle my student loans, which are overdue. The hows and whys, the whens and how much-es, the reasons and the complexities are beyond me. I just want another forebearance. The Fucking Nazi Assholes nice people there say I can't get a teacher shortage deferrment even though I qualify for one with the federal government because my loans are new student loans. I say my loans aren't new, but they say I consolidated my loans with them not long ago, so they are new loans and don't qualify for that deferment. So apparently all of their loans are new and don't qualify for those deferments. How clever of them. (And we all know who "they" are. The evil people.) I would tell you the amount of my student loans, which I am sure would make you feel much better about the state of your finances, but again, my mother's words ring in my head, "Don't tell anyone how much money you make. Don't tell anyone who you voted for. Don't tell anyone what we say in this house."

I did actually drag myself to the doctor in the afternoon and she kindly offered to give me an excuse for the principal (this does feel like high school again) for today too, but as you see I am up, doing my best to keep the country running smoothly and fill those junior high school students heads with fear and loathing. I intend to sit at my desk like the king of the world with them in little busy groups while I grade the 155 essays (so there, Cookie) that I have been expertly procrastinating. (Too sick to correct.)

Well, I am off to the salt mines, as my father used to say. See you later.