First exam: done.
Well, at least the students have finished writing it.
I haven't even contemplated when, in my Week of Mad Marking, I'll be slotting them in for perusal.
In spite of my best efforts, the intro qual interviews are still wrapped around me like the chains of Jacob Marley.
One and a half left to finish before my meeting at noon.
They would have been finished yesterday, but while sitting at my desk, marking away as is the norm lately, I was struck with what can only be food poisoning.
Both ends.
Precipitating an immediate change of plans from marking-until-I-can't-hold-my-eyes-open-a-moment-longer to driving-home-as-quickly-as possible-to-down-Gravol-and-go-to-bed.
Which was exactly what I did.
Meaning I slept from 3.00-8.20, got up long enough to see my absolute favourite episode of Big Bang Theory, where Raj is in People magazine and Sheldon feigns support. . .
. . .and then back to bed until 2.00 am, when Tikka was pawing for pee pee, thus forcing me out of bed for what turned out to be a pee and a massive poop.
Back to bed again until 8.00 am when Keith gently tapped on my door to inquire if I knew it was 8.00 am.
I did indeed.
Particularly because I had awoken from a dream where Stephen announced he was transgendered and was initiating the process of moving from Stephen to Stephanie.
I have friends who are transgendered.
I just didn't know Stephen was one of them.
Waking up to Keith's gentle tap allowed me the opportunity to see if Stephen was Stephen or Stephanie.
Stephen it is.
But we're having a talk later, let me tell you!
I'm feeling better.
A good thing because food poisoning or not, I have to take Em to school, drop Mer and Keith off to work, and then traverse the streets of Fredericton to the main office of Mer's landlords, Killam Properties.
Apparently, they've been harassing the beleaguered building manager about a supposed $50.00 I owe them.
I do not owe them anything.
The issue is that when they upped Mer's rent in September, they failed to change the amount of the automatic withdraw.
Or the PAP as they call them.
Pre-Authorized Payments.
And in spite of my sharing this info with the beleaguered building manager, I still have to traipse over to their headquarters and explain this in person.
In spite of no one informing me of how come I have to go over.
I just do.
Hopefully this will be one of those things that can be settled swiftly.
Feeling better doesn't equate to feeling 100% and I wouldn't want to experience any bodily blowouts while trying to educate them about their error.
Would I?
Marking or no marking, my mother needed to go to the mall to get my father a Christmas present.
Thus our Ford Focus sleigh picked her up Monday morning and whisked her off to the mall mayhem and chaos that rears it's ugly head at Christmas.
Monday morning or not, there was still reigning chaos and mayhem.
Albeit in a somewhat less potent capacity than on a Friday night or Saturday.
It took Mum as much time to pick out Dad's gift as it did for us to get her in the car.
Stephen and I picked up new pillows, 50% off, for our little heads, which were weary from resting on the pancake like pillows atop our bed.
And maybe we even picked up a couple of things for the kids.
At the check out, I reach for my bank card and realize in that instant that it wasn't there.
It was in my other coat pocket.
The coat I was wearing when I put gas in Em's car earlier that morning.
I turned to Stephen with panic on my face.
My mother's eagle eyes taking in the entire scenario and wondering how it was going to affect her.
When I realized Stephen had cash in his wallet for a bill payment he was to make later that day.
Pony up the cash buddy, because I am NOT coming back later to get the gift-that-won't-be-there because that is what ALWAYS happens to me.
The issue of the bank card still loomed, however.
So Stephen graciously "offered" to go home and retrieve the bank card while Mum and I rested our weary selves at Starbucks.
Sweet deal if you ask me.
On the way we purchased lottery tickets with the change from our purchases.
If we win, we're taking a cruise.
Me and Mum.
Sailing through the oceans, stopping in each and every port, sampling the local cuisine.
Getting diarrhea.
Dream big, dream honest I say.
Title Lyric: Sailing by Christopher Cross
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