The Bone Picker

I survived the first day. But I have a bone to pick. More on that
later. Breakfast went as predicted. Heh heh. I didn't notice that
when I first typed it. Bone. Breakfast. No, nobody choked on
a bacon bone or anything exotic. My table was in the last group.

I almost got some extra work time, because we sailed right through
that insurance and confidentiality stuff. I was working away in my
room when my tenant came in. You know, the guy I'm sharing my
room with. He was OH SO POLITE. I was my grouchy old self.
I told him not to take it personally. I know it's not his fault. It's not
anybody's fault. I talked to him a good 30 minutes, explaining the
computers' idiosyncrasies. Like the one that won't boot unless you
jam a floppy in it. It runs a loop saying Windows is opening unless
you feed it the floppy. Then it works. The other one is slower than
a Wal*Mart checkouts on the first weekend of the month.

I told him I would clean out part of a cabinet for him. Then I
walked him to the other classroom he's using. We broke the news
to that teacher. Her reaction was a bit similar to mine the first time
I heard it. I left him there, then found him later and told him I had the
other computer going if he needed to come in and work. He said he
didn't really have anything to do, and he was going to type stuff at
home. I told him he could join us for lunch. That's because I'm so
used to being left out. I didn't care if he joined us or not, but I
wanted him to have that option. Now don't go thinking I went all
Mother Teresa all of a sudden. I was only trying to be polite.

But listen to THIS! After lunch, I went to the library to get a good
seat for the meeting, and The Sharer came in. He said he'd gotten
things worked out to where he doesn't have to share my room.
I said, "What? I cleaned out some shelves for you." He said,
"Someone told me you weren't very good at sharing a room."
To cover up the deep hurt in my heart, I joked, "Yeah! ME! I
told you this morning I don't like to share!" But I'm bitter. Well,
not really, but it makes for better blogging if I am.

Here is the bone of contention. I harbor no ill will towards The
Sharer. He's a nice guy, and he's the one who has to squat in
different classrooms without a home to call his own. He's got
it way rougher than me. I have no beef with him. But WHO
told him that Hillbilly Mom does not work and play well with
others? WHO? When I find out, I'm gonna...do nothing,
actually, but perhaps seethe silently the rest of the year.

I have several suspects. Someone who shared my room for a
whole quarter, and ripped up one of my posters, and chipped
some paint off the wall, and left my desks kind of dirty and
crooked. Actually, the students did it, but not my students.
It could have been a confidant to whom I complained about
people using my room. Not sharing, mind you, but using it
with no one telling me, and leaving the door unlocked all night,
and leaving junk in the desks for me to clean out. It could have
been one of my lunchmen, who know my personality OH SO
WELL by now. It could have been the one who 'borrowed'
my TV/VCR one Open House evening, wheeling it back in
right under my nose, causing me to snarl, "I bought that myself,
you know."

There you have it. More suspects than a good game of Clue.
They'd better watch their mailboxes, is all I have to say. You
never know when some cat pictures may show up.

How dare they speak the truth about Hillbilly Mom!