The stupid grows, day by day. This morning, I went to take a look at the new library, as best I could from a classroom window across what will become the courtyard, since I heard that some of the walls were going up. Up they are. Now I can see the three massive windows that will be getting the full afternoon sun and so will have to be covered all the time. But I knew about that. New today was getting a look at the wall which separates the main library from the adjacent computer lab, the wall which, at my request, was supposed to be all glass on the top half so we could always see into the room. But no. There are five dinky little windows cut into the wall. This means that we can't allow kids to be in the room unless a teacher is in there supervising, which means only when a class is in session. Otherwise, the room has to be closed to kids. Good plan. I could also see that one of the giant windows covers the place where two of our little work rooms were supposed to be, rooms without windows, so I guess they cut those out of the design, too. We can also see now how big the pillars are, the six pillars that are about 2 feet by 2 feet. Allegedly, they needed these to hold up the ceiling, which, duh, I understand, but the new cafeteria which is right next to the library has this nice big domed truss-supported ceiling, so if they can do it there, why not in the library? No pillars, and it would have looked nice, too. Anyway, this all isn't even bothering me anymore, other than being annoying; I'm not upset about it. Just a shrugging-it-off kind of thing. Oh, I forgot, here's the picture:
We had an evacuation drill this afternoon. (Don't remember having those when we were in high school, eh?) Since I don't have kids working in the library anymore, I wasn't supposed to have any kids to monitor, and I hooked myself up with another job where I would be collecting attendance reports, alphabetizing them, and so on. Minutes before the drill was to start, I found out, somewhat inadvertently, that some kids -- but I didn't know how many or which ones -- from one of the special program classes would be reporting to me. You know, we have one of these drills every year, and it's always considered a great success because, I guess, no one dies, but in reality, if there were a real emergency, kids and teachers would be absolutely lost in the shuffle.
Why an evacuation drill in November, and not September or early October? Well, they got very lucky because this turned out to be an absolutely beautiful day. But the reason they picked today is that tomorrow's football game had to be rescheduled (in fact, because the SATs take longer now, and tomorrow is an SAT day), so they moved it to today after school. Which means we all evacuated to the football field (which is where we always evacuate to because the stands can hold the entire student body) where we became captive game-attendees. How low can you go? Not only has our football team not won a game in years, but before today, they have only scored once over the last few years. (Amazingly, they scored today on the first play.) They are the worst football team in history, and no one ever goes to the games. Until today. But when the end of the school day came, people just got to get up and left in droves. That can't be good for the old morale, I would think. (Not that they don't know how bad they are, I mean, come on. What would be really nice would be if the football coach, who is not a teacher in the school, didn't strut around town as if he were the cock of the walk. There's a guy who seriously needs to buy a clue.)
Okay, I know I mentioned this briefly the other day in my list of things that would make my world perfect, but it's been haunting me: why is it that no one else in my house ever cleans anything?
Go ahead and laugh at me. I know this is a universal thing. But it's not as if I spent years at home and we had designated household duties and cleaning was one of mine. I have never spent extended periods of time not working unless it was following the birth of a child or the removal of a brain tumor, and let me tell you, cleaning was not a priority for me during any of those times. My children are grown and presumably knew enough to clean the toilets when they were living elsewhere. I know that my husband knows how because when we were in high school and his father, who was prominent in town, used his connections to get his son a summer job, his summer job was changing light bulbs and cleaning toilets in the various municipal buildings around town.
We do have a division of labor, of sorts, and it's not that neither of us does nothing. (Although curiously, there is the grown daughter, who does ...) It's just that cleaning isn't on anybody's list, which means that I end up doing it. And I hate cleaning. The Hubs, as I have mentioned, has a pretty good racket, I think, because he only does stuff that he likes. He likes yardwork and gardening, so he does that. Okay, he doesn't really like snow shoveling, but he does apply a kind of military precision to it, so I assume it's like a game for him. He takes out the garbage and the recycling, although he never sees the cardboard boxes I've left to put out, so I have to take them myself. He does his own food shopping and his own cooking, and he washes his own dishes. It has never occurred to him once in 28+ years to wipe down the stove or the counter or the sink afterwards. If a glass breaks, he sweeps it up (if he's right there; usually he holds back the cats and I sweep), but otherwise he has no concept that particles of any kind can be removed from the surface of the kitchen floor. Years ago, when he used to watch TV in the family room, he would vacuum there once in a while on a Sunday afternoon while I was out, but I don't think he even knows where I keep the vacuum now. (He has never vacuumed in his little study where he spends all his time.) Okay, he did do the food shopping for the family for years. Once they were both off at college I took that over in self-defense, so I'd have something to eat in the house.
Whatever cleaning is done, I do it. If he's teaching on a night when the recycling has to go out, I take it. My shopping provides the toilet paper, the paper towels, the laundry detergent. (He washes his own clothes, too; everybody in the house does that. I wash the towels.) I buy the lightbulbs and the soap. I pay the bills. I clean the furnace filter and set the thermostat. (I don't think he knows how to set the thermostat.) I make all arrangements for the cars to be serviced. Yes, he works a long day, roughly six to six. But that's his choice; it's not as if he has to clock in anywhere. If I disappeared out of his world, it would fall apart. He would become perpetually grumpy, always feeling that he should be at work and not waiting home for a service person or taking a cat to the vet or, heaven forfend, making a phone call to make an appointment for something. The only thing I feel certain he would make sure to buy on his own is toilet paper. That, I know, is important to him.
*sigh* I'm just saying. I have no expectations of change, of course, because what happened here is that I trained everybody to let me do all this stuff and that's what they do. But would it kill someone to just clean the toilet? Once? For me?
--------------------------------------------------
I'm watching Dr. Phil
--------------------------------------------------
last ::
next
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
|
