The level of tired in my body is at an all-time high.
I woke up at four a.m., thanks to the furry food-consumption device crying outside the bedroom door, and found that K, home on spring break, had gone out with a friend around two and was not yet home. Not that I was worried. Impressed, maybe. How do they do that? Stay up all night? (Yes, I know, they sleep all day. I was 18 once, but probably in another life.)
So I got to school at 6:30, smoked that first wonderful cigarette of the day with my Chum, and worked until five o'freaking clock teaching a workshop to five fellow teachers. For the amusement of all you d-landers, I was (trying) to teach them to create a simple website for their students, to post homework and announcement, using Diaryland.
The three English teachers under 25 all caught right on, set up accounts, logged in and were all ready to post an entry when our network crashed. Okay, next time. But they got it.
The two over-50 math teachers ... well, I love them both, but this should have been on America's Funniest Home Videos. I don't think they had an idea of what diaryland is, but what really hung them up was the username/password thing. They don't understand why the username/password they have for the Internet at school, or for that matter, their email at home, doesn't just work everywhere. Why do they have to create a new one for diaryland? And why can't they just use their names? (Because someone else already has it, probably.) They were setting up accounts, losing them, not understanding how to get their email, and on and on and on. One of these women teaches Advanced Placement Statistics, a college-level course, and teaches it well. But she doesn't know how to write down a password so she can use it again two minutes later.
Next Wednesday is moving day, the day we clear out the rest of everything from Jack's apartment. And then it's all gone. From there, anyway, a whole lot of it will be right here. So it looks like I'll be spending the weekend shifting around all the items in my mouse-house to make room. And I get to keep the huge, ornate, incredibly-heavy mirror that my mother so prized and that no one else wants, for good reason. Go me.
48dF - woo hoo!
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I'm watching The Golden Girls
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
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