ONE MONTH LATER

In the 10 minutes I have left of lunch when I should be grading, I will write a list that will somewhat explain what I've been doing for the last month of my life but will likely not be all inclusive:

• Some greasy maintenance man is "letting himself in my unit" right now and will fix the oven that doesn't work; it hasn't worked since I moved in at the beginning of August, but three days ago was the first time I tried to use it.
• The Good Doctor and I share a gym membership. I've been average about going. The Good Doctor and I have gone about the same amount of time; he has lost six pounds. I have lost zero pounds and have developed some weird rash below my eye.
• Two days ago, a student, a girl with Asperger's, said to me: wow you have a huge gap between those teeth up front. That student disappeared today during a test. She was supposed to have gone to the testing room but didn't show up. She is presumed dead.
• The same day another student, non-Asperger's, said to me: Do you watch Project Runway? Because you look just like the Gretchen girl on that show. Everytime I watch it I think of you. And when I see you I think of the show. I mean, it's awesome! She's so pretty. Right on, student. A.k.a. new best friend.
• I almost died in front of my class, literally, choking on a sucker. A student had his arms around me, Heimlich ready. It was humiliating. I mean, I assumed I would die while eating candy, but not in front of my students.
• My bathroom pass is a mannequin head with hair so greasy it is becoming dreads.
• Today a student wrote this metaphor (non-mash): His hand is a crushed peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the bottom of my backpack. And I freaked out because I really like it.
• Another moment: in an assignment, a student wrote: the birds depart from the trees, airplanes from terminals.
• In a descriptive essay, a student wrote: A smile spread across his face like the Bubonic plague. What?