Terr-uh-fied.

This post began as a like/dislike list. But I got fixated on my first item. So the rest will have to wait. Which is sad, because I really like a lot of awesome stuff. Instead, you get to read about something I don’t like. Oh well, you've made it this far, you might as well read on…

Things I don’t like:

Ladybugs. I am terr-uh-fied of these beastly creatures. They are awful. I can’t remember a time when the presence of them didn't cause some form of mild heart attack. I do remember a time however, when one of them landed on our tram on the Lagoon Skyride. I began to crawl out of the tram in horror, 60 feet above the ground, while a friend of mine frantically brushed it away. Then I made my way back in, barely breathing.

 I more afraid of ladybugs than I am that Kristen Stewart’s face is stuck permanently in that dull stoner expression and that I’ll be forced to see that repulsive expression for many Oscars to come due to bad casting calls. Now that’s fear.

You never see ladybugs coming. They always appear out of nowhere, lurking, skulking, being vicious in seemingly innocent ways. In no way is this a joke. Some close to me have doubted my sincerity. They have very nearly lost our friendship, putting this fear to the test.

Out of all the awful stories I collected from my ex, the worst is when I was cornered in the bedroom, clinging to the wall, in hysterics as a ladybug walked around by the doorway. He refused to move it and take it outside. (I may hate them, but I’m not a bug killer.) He was convinced that if I faced my fear, I could be rid of it. No. That is not how I work. I couldn't even run out of the house, because I’d have to past where it was, which in turn could have killed me. Or at least created a sobbing, vomiting, wreck of a human. Just because it’s ridiculous doesn't make it any less real.

I can look at pictures of them, and hold items that onto which people have drawn or painted them. It’s a sick joke of sorts, people will buy me these things as gag gifts. I bought you a plate…but….ha! It has a ladybug on it! Whatever. I don’t know what they expect. I’m weird, but I’m not crazy. My fear is rooted in the actual thing. The presence of it near me, and my knowledge of that presence. Shudder.

Listen, I know that humans have taken over the land, and destroyed forests, and eliminated habitats. We have much blame upon us as a species. But outside is still a really big place. And my house? Not as big. Therefore, there is no, absolutely no, reason why a vile ladybug should ever cross the threshold of my home. Or actually my porch. Once I found a dead ladybug on the porch couch. Of course, it was on a beautiful day and I had a book I was going to read, and I was in a gloriously calm mood. Then, BAM. Frozen. I tried to pep talk myself into getting a stick and knocking it off. No. I couldn't even get the other end of the stick to touch the thing, as I stood swaying on the porch, tears rolling down my cheeks. I actually had to leave the house. I waited until one of my sane roommates could take care of it. Which, in turn, led to a nasty round of, what I like to call: ‘You-Can’t-Really-Be-That-Afraid-So-I’m-Going-To-Test-Out-A-Theory-On-You’. Which, in turn, led to hysterics. Which, in turn, led to a friendship almost lost. Not even close to kidding.

The stories go on. It’s a blend of ludicrous and pathetic. Somewhere in my head, I just figured I would grow out of it. Then I never grew past 5 feet. Which, apparently, is simply not tall enough to outgrow an irrational fear of ladybugs. Add that to your scientific journals. I can even illustrate my point for you if you’re unable to read. It’s that important.

I guess it still requires reading...but the point remains the same!

I dearly hope that you are never put in the position of truly being afraid of something. But I know all of us are. Even so, I hope you don’t face that fear often. Because it’s an ugly, hideous feeling when you do. If we could just form an agreement with each other, that we would keep each other safe, from whatever evils (real, imaginary, and/or really imagined) that we may come across, I think I would feel a whole lot better in my situation. I think you might too. At least, consider it.

If you agree, respond by keeping all ladybugs far from my vicinity. You don’t need to harm them or anything like that. Just, you know, push them into a garden or something. Like a forest. Or maybe the Amazon, if you have those kinds of connections. On my end, I will respond by continuing to do what I've been doing all along. I’m going to assume that you are currently in a state of safety, and I wouldn't want to jeopardize that by doing something different. Unless, of course, you’re NOT in a state of safety. Like, you are near a ladybug. In which case, I cannot help you. If you are in a circumstance not involving a ladybug (and you’re sure that it doesn't involve one!) and are seeking my assistance, please contact me with a detailed description of what I can do to help. Until then, Godspeed. 

Under-The-Weather-Ness

Teaching is a great job. Politics and the like relating to it tend to swing back and forth, but the actual teaching profession is phenomenal to behold. I love it. Except that I work in a germ factory. Teaching miniature germ factories. By the time you've been around teaching a few years, your immune system is made entirely out of steel. It has to be. Otherwise you’d never be able to leave your bed and actually get to work. I've had kids throw up on my shoes, cough in my mouth (even more gross than it sounds), and leave their used tissues on tables, long forgotten. All of this and your body learns to rebuild itself, similar to a superhero mutation but maybe not quite.  My point: if a teacher is sick, then they are SICK.

I don’t know about you, but as long as I’m healthy, I sort of forget what being sick is like. There’s a level of disconnect between my sympathy for someone else and actually recalling the feelings and exhaustion that go along with being sick. It’s a mental version of: I just heard you cough, so I back up a foot. I don’t even want to remember what it’s like to be sick. At all.

Now though, I remember. As I sit, hunched over my computer, my eyes squinting and my pajamas mismatched, I remember everything. It totally and completely sucks.

Temperature is a tricky bastard when you’re sick. It can be this way even if you’re not, but when you are it is multiplied by about 6000. Too hot, too cold, too anything. Never a comfortable resting state. And the rest! If you’re lucky enough to be able to sleep, (which I am because it’s the weekend), your bed becomes both friend and enemy. I love my bed. Post alarm clock me is IN love with my bed. But when you have to be in it, deemed unfit for life activities, even I begin to resent it a little bit. Spreading the time between bed and couch helps, but honestly the couch is just the living room version of a bed and everyone knows it.

Now that I’m sick, I’m home. Which, in the craziness of scheduling, I feel like I haven’t really been here a whole lot lately. And now that I’m here, without a lot to distract me, I’m noticing things. Laundry piled up, dishes in the sink, paper piles that have sprouted up organically throughout my shelving. Things that need doing, only I’m too exhausted to do them. How can I possibly take care of household chores, when the very idea of making soup stretches before me in endless steps. Walking to the kitchen, opening the cupboard, finding soup, closing the cupboard, finding a can opener, and on and on and on. All this for soup. Dumb soup that I don’t even think I want anymore. In fact, am I hungry at all? Nope. Finally a diet that might work.

Being sick comes with a time limit. I feel like it is truer now than it has ever been before. People work a LOT. They cram their days with a million things that they feel like only they can do, and there simply isn't time to deal with all this under-the-weather-ness. I will tell you though, that if you have the kind of job that you can call in sick to, and have that be it, you’re incredibly lucky. If a teacher gets sick, if a rogue virus infiltrates their impermeable immune system, they are screwed. Because when you call in, you need to have sub plans that go along with that call.

Papers outlining schedules and directions, rules, classroom outlines, kids who are able to help if needed, what books to read, where to find that thing that you could find within seconds, but someone who has no knowledge of your classroom could take months to find. It’s like leading someone around in a dark room. From a letter. Oh and there are a thousand kids in the room. And some of them cough in your face. Good luck. My point is that I need to be better by Monday. Especially considering it’s Valentine’s week, and also, Teacher Appreciation week at my school. There’s no way a sub gets to come in for that. I’ll crawl in if I have to…which I might.

This post is whiny. I get that. But I’m sick. And home alone. And soup is really far away. And my bed is gloating. And my laundry resembles Mt. Everest. Plus it’s Friday, which should have a rule against anyone being sick on this day anyway, just on principle. So be nice to me. When other people claim illness, I do the standard ‘get well soon’ statement, the ‘so-sorry-it’s-you-but-glad-it’s-not-me’ face, and really do try and make things as comfortable as possible; all by staying a healthy two feet away from them of course. That’s all I ask. And also, if I could just get some soup? 

My progress thus far. Also, does anyone know what that spoon holder thingy in the background is actually called? I ended up calling mine Rico, but it doesn't quite feel right.