A Cycle of &*$^#! and Calm

Yes, that accurately describes my day. Why didn't anyone warn me that moving is a most serious pain in the ass? In perhaps a dozen trips (I lost count), alone with my shopping cart, I only managed to move in my bathroom and kitchen. And even those aren't *really* finished, because I have a handful of dishes and my shower caddy still in the old place. My little cart is great, but holds two shopping bags and one box perched on top, meaning manymanymany trips.

During my journey this afternoon and evening, I met a man supervising a paint job on his building. We exchanged pleasantries each time I passed, and I offered him and the painter a snack from my cart as I wheeled the contents of my pantry down the street. On my next trip, he asked me if I wanted to use his minivan to make a larger trip. "I wish I could, but I don't drive." He suggested I find someone in my building who would be willing to drive, but alas, the workers had all left for the evening. When I emerged empty-carted and without a companion, he offered to drive me himself. I hesitated only briefly, realizing that there were plenty of witnesses around, and clearly this man had no hidden agenda. So I agreed, and he drove me back to my place, gave me his phone number, and told me to call him when I had my boxes ready for him to pick up. Too good to be true, right? Wrong. I called him, and he drove over, helped me load the boxes, drove me back, and helped me unload into the stairwell. The trip I took with him was equivalent to four or five with the cart. Sir Clarence Gregory, I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.

Now, to make things more complicated for myself, I have only five Hammermill boxes, plus two Trader Joe's shopping bags, with which to move my belongings. When the movers come tomorrow, I need everything that they're moving to be cleared off - my bookshelves, dressers, furniture, etc.. Two of my bookshelves alone used all five boxes, and I still need to pack up the contents of my third bookshelf and desk...see how the math isn't quite working out?

But just when I'd lost all hope, a beacon of light shone upon me. Miss Amanda "Coffman" Bosky, dear old friend and roommate, is available with her car from 9-4, and she's willing to drive all the way from Oak Park to help me. Saviour #2 on the day!

OK, so I'm ending very abruptly, but it's 12:13 and I promised myself I'd be in bed at 12, as I'm waking up at 6 to get a good start on the day. Send me "good moving" vibes, people!

Aw, Cafe Mud (above which I will soon live) is to be no more. I guess that's what happens when you don't pay your rent. On the plus side, I won't have to deal with the creepy owner. Unfortunately, this also means that I can't access the free Wi-Fi. Shucks.

If I had to sum up this summer, I'd say it's one of physical ailments. Very troublesome vertigo and severe headaches, a strained back, sore knees from biking 30 miles a week, mild sunburn, various bumps, bruises and scratches from rambunctious campers/carrying my bike up and down the apartment stairs/being my clumsy self, not to mention the other stress-related conditions from GRE-itis...oy. There's also the heartache...yes, *that* heartache. It's the hardest to fix, but it fades a little more every day. Now I'm sitting here, awake since 4:30 EST, with 14 mosquito bites on my feet that itch so badly I woke up half a dozen times before getting up for good. Harumph, I say!

At least, thankfully, I'm on vacation, spending my time visiting relatives, taking trips to the beach, and sleeping far more than I ever could this summer. Of course, when I return to Evanston, I'll immediately throw myself into some whirlwind moving action - I have less than 48 hours to be out of my apartment - and start prepping my 2 year-old classes, which will take far more commitment and planning than last year's program. Oh, and I suppose I should start studying - again - for the GRE, and compiling grad school applications. You know, in case I didn't have enough on my plate. Big changes are afoot, but in all fairness, I welcome them. Perhaps it's the dawn of a new era of Laura. Laura v2.0...or 10.4.11, more appropriately. I like that idea very much. We'll keep that going.

Get it together.

You know, I feel like I've cried more in the past eight weeks than I would normally in a bloody eight-month span. I feel a little pathetic, truth be told, and completely drained. Think I should go to bed before I suffer another spell.

Joy of all joys!, or, I love my boss.

Most of you know that the hardest part of my teaching job is not developing curriculum, or keeping children in line, or earning a measly wage, but dealing with coworker Q. For the sake of maintaining a peaceful environment, I largely kept quiet about my complaints. That is, until my boss requested a meeting in April to discuss the end of the school year and upcoming summer camp.

Without throwing Q under the bus - because I truly respect her creativity, and recognize that she's been essential to my growth as a teacher - I aired all of my concerns, and admitted that I didn't want to return to summer camp if I had to be her assistant in the morning. My summer would be difficult enough (it has certainly proved to be so) without the added tension. Additionally, I questioned whether or not I wanted to continue as her assistant in the fall, as my lead teaching opportunities bring me far more happiness with negligible stress. My boss assured me that my issues would be addressed, told me how much she valued my work, and on top of it all, apologized for not being more of a supportive presence and vowed to be more active from then on. What a pleasant surprise!

I can happily report that my summer has been relatively Q-free, as I was moved to a preschool sports camp in the morning. The daily reports I receive from a counselor who works with both me and Q reaffirms that I made the right decision in requesting said transfer. My summer is certainly the better for it, though as I mentioned, I'm not faring terribly well. Anyway, two days ago, my boss dropped a most surprising and glorious bombshell: I have a complete two year-old program, mine and mine alone, Monday-Friday.

I have an entire program! I HAVE AN ENTIRE PROGRAM!!

In case you don't understand my excitement, let me explain that this is just about everything I could have wanted. 1) I'll have limited contact with Q, and I think our relationship will be better for it. 2) I'll continue working with coworker X, whom I adore, twice a week for our open gym program. 3) I have complete control over the curriculum of some spectacular classes - art, music, cooking (!), and science being the highlights. 4) As I won't be anyone's assistant, I won't have two wages, only the higher one. Granted, it's still only $1000/month, but that's $200 more than what I made this past school year. I'll take what I can get.

In short, huzzah!, both for me and for my boss, who's been far more receptive and proactive than I ever expected. Isn't it nice to feel appreciated?

I want to go home.

Give me strength.

I'm taking the GRE in ten weeks. Whatever I said about driving, and reading as much as possible...backburner until August 10th. I want to suffer through this indignity only once. Now I can start panicking and hating myself for not remembering anything to do with math.