Harder Than I Thought...

When I agreed to spend the last week of my summer vacation in a training rather than lolling about like a sultan and demanding that the cats feed me grapes, I joked with the Special Education secretary about the whole matter.

Why, this'll be a great way to train myself to get up for work in the morning again!"

I was sort of only half-kidding on that one. I'm not a late-sleeper by any stretch of the imagination. A day that I snooze past 8:00 is a rare one. But the wakey-wakey time is super-duper early during the school year and I always have a tough time getting back on track during that first week of classes.

Thus, a great deal of thought went into the plan for this morning's departure. I normally have to be at school by 7:30 in the morning. So, despite today's training not starting until 8:30, I thought it might be a good idea to get up on a school-day schedule and allow myself a little extra time. The whole thing was brilliant, really. I'd be ready to rock and roll next week and would have some extra time this morning to get ready at my leisure, gas up the truck and maybe even pick up some store-bought coffee on the way to school. I put myself to bed at a reasonable hour, and even went so far as to set two alarm clocks. To ensure that I might actually get out of the bed at the appointed time, I also put a sticky note on the alarm clock button. I figured that would get my attention even if the piercing shriek of the multiple alarms did not.

I tell you, less planning goes into the launching of the space shuttle...

The alarms went off this morning right on schedule. As I thought I might, I hit the snooze button once or twice, but I'd allowed for that in the timetable. I took a moment to sleepily pat myself on my ever-so-punctual back.

That's the last thing I remember for a bit.

The next thing I knew, I was staring at three glowing numbers. They read 7:22. This would be 8 minutes before scheduled departure time. I'd overslept.

With great flailing of limbs, creative language and a willingness to leave the house in something of a less "polished" state, I was able to make it to my first day of Safety Training with thirty seconds to spare. I'd hoped that my over-stupefied and under-caffeinated state might be the full extent of my punishment.

But, it wasn't really a stellar day. Due to a little glitch in overall communication, the training was scheduled for Fire Alarm Testing day at the high school. Thus, for the first three hours, we were subjected to randomly shrieking alarms. As this is a fairly new school, the alarms are not the soothing bells or buzzers of days gone by. Instead, they are composed of two tones, one high, one low. They oscillate at differing rates to ensure that they have the full attention of the listener. They are accompanied by a flashing strobe light. It's a seizure maker, no doubt about it. And not really conducive to higher levels of learning while at a rather important training.

As I was practicing a rather fun little maneuver that involves shuffling backwards and sideways at rapid rates of speed in order that I might avoid a frontal assault from an over-stimulated student, I managed to tweak my left knee a bit and am now on ice so that I can do it all over again tomorrow at higher rates of speed.

Being very late meant that I didn't get to choose my seat. This meant sitting next to The Person Who Is Actively Involved, Eager, And Has Lots Of Questions. I was not really in the mood for her today. I'm sure that she is a lovely person and that her friends and family find her to be nothing short of a delight. She probably donates her time and dollars to many charities and is beloved by all her cross her path. But. I. Was. Not. In. The. Mood. Today.

This all might have been bearable save for one little thing. One tiny thing that, had it been allowed, would have meant the difference between A Good Day With Seizures And A Sore Knee and A Bad Day With Seizures And A Sore Knee. Isn't it funny how it's the little things that make all the difference?

I wasn't allowed to knit.

I have two more knitless days to go, two tests to take and I still need to finish up demonstrating competency in releasing myself from a front choke-hold. I can't help but ask myself:

Why didn't I just stay in bed?

SA