That moment when you wish you had done laundry instead of watching 7 episodes of Brooklyn 99 on DVR last night, because now all you have left are these two socks.
So you put them on and hope that none of your 3 tutoring clients this afternoon insist that you take off your boots before entering their apartment, which is a weird thing to hope because all 3 of them ALWAYS DO.
Damnit, Andy Samberg. Why must you be so addictively and Jewily handsome?
At the end of the day, I asked two kids in the class to help me clean up:
Me: “Guys, do me a favor– one of you help put up the chairs, and the other please help pick up the atrocious amount of pencils that have been left on the floor.”
(kids burst out laughing)
Me: “Ok, I don’t know why that’s so humorous, but go ahead and get started, please.”
Kid 1: “Can WE use that word you used?”
Me: “Umm…sure.”
Kid 1 (to Kid 2): “Ok, YOU pick up the chairs, and I’LL pick up the asshole-ish amount of pencils on the floor.”
Me: “Woah woah woah WOAH. No! I said ATROCIOUS amount of pencils!”
Kid 1: “Oh. That changes everything.”
Kid: “Miss Emily! Your hair is as beautiful as SpongeBob’s!”
Tutoring a kid in fractions, the word “sixths,” keeps coming up, which is a difficult word for me to say, given that I have a slight lisp…
Me: “Sorry, I know I keep mispronouncing it, but it’s hard for me to say with my lisp.”
Kid: “What’s a lisp?”
Me: “It’s a speech impediment. It makes it hard to say certain sounds, like ‘th’ and ‘s.'”
Kid: “Is that why you sometimes spit when you talk?”
Me: “Oh….um. Yes. I actually had convinced myself that no one noticed that.”
Kid: “Oh, I noticed.”
Me: “Yes, clearly.”
Kid: “And, like, I never notice ANYTHING.”
Me: “Great.”
Kid: “Seriously, my mom’s always like ‘Katie, how do you NOT notice that? It’s right in front of you!'”
Me: “I see.”
Kid: “But yeah. Anyway. I noticed the spitting.”
Oh, yeah, totally. I won’t.
When your day begins with the question “Is this soy sauce or Sharpie?” while staring at a stain on your shower towel, it’s time to reevaluate your entire existence.
Because honestly, neither answer is reassuring, and both answers represent a situation that never should have occurred while wearing a bath towel.
Consequently, I have been shamed into learning an important lesson this morning.
I should do everything naked.
In therapy, I always know that my therapist will be super impressed when I am able to put a positive analytical spin on a negative situation. After all, this kind of optimisim has taken me years to accomplish:
“So, I hurt my ankle over the summer while training for a marathon. It was a silly accident– I tripped over a tree root. It wasn’t an acute, horrible pain, but over the next few days, my ankle just felt generally weak and sore. So I decided to rest it for a few days. When I tried running again the next week, I still couldn’t. So I had to give up the marathon, which was hugely dissapointing, and take a longer hiatus from running. Just recently though, months later, I started to get back into it, running almost every day. And now my ankle is acting up again. And you know what? I think this might be God’s way of saying ‘SLOW DOWN, Em. Take a moment. Life isn’t a race. Breathe. Look around, appreciate what is happening in the now, and stop trying to run from your anxieties.’ So, see, the hurt ankle is actually a blessing– a constant reminder to stay focused in the present.”
I sat back, crossed my arms, extremely satisfied with myself for being so optimistically thoughtful.
Therapist: “I think God is telling you to get an x-ray. You might have a stress fracture.”
Kid: “How come you always wear the same thing when you come to tutor me?”
Me (in a completely unnecessary defensive tone): “I do NOT!”
Kid: “Yes you do. You always wear that green sweater.”
Me: “I really don’t think that’s accurate. I admit I wear this sweater a lot, but not every week.”
Kid: “Yes you do. Look.” (Pulls out tally chart below) “I’ve been keeping track since October.”
Well I’ll be damned.
As our class waited to enter the cafeteria, I showed a student a picture of my month-old nephew, face-planted on a blanket, doing absolutely nothing, as babies do.
Kid: “Aww! Cute.”
Me: “I know! Isn’t he SO smart!?”
Kid: (looks quizzically at the picture)
Me: “Like, the way he’s just lying there! It’s genius!”
Kid: “Ummm…I guess?”
Me: “I’m telling you, a baby who can rest like this– he’s going to cure cancer one day.”
Kid: “Oh I see. You’re messing with me.”
Me: “Yes! You’re finally able to read my sarcasm!”
Kid: “Well, it’s not really fair– sometimes you’re being sarcastic and sometimes you’re just being weird.”
Me: “Ah. So the truth comes out. You think I’m weird.”
Kid (backtracking): “Well, yeah…but like, weird is GOOD. There’s no such thing as weird, really. Weird just means different.”
Me: “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
Kid: “No!”
Me: “Really?”
Kid (defeated): “Ok…yeah.”
Kid: “Woah, Miss Emily! You look like me now!”
She’s Indian.
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