Cornered by Crazy
I have another inner ear infection. I have had a few dizzy spells over the last 3 days. Since that paper was due tonight, I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself, or take Meclizine and go to sleep, which is what I really wanted to do.
Last night I stayed up until about 3:30 a.m., and I was actively working on the paper from about 3:00 p.m. until then, with a small break when TH got home at 1 a.m. Since I was drinking coffee most of that time, I was awake in bed for at least an hour after that. My heart was doing that excessively loud and fast pounding thing, and I felt like I was coming out of my skin. I contemplated getting up and trying to work some more, but it was one of those deals where I was too wired to fall asleep, but too tired to think clearly. Every time I attempt to use caffeine to allow myself to work longer, I remember that not only does it not work, but it also makes rest impossible and makes you miserable.
Advance planning is the only way to go. I'm going to make a smart old woman, as my dad would say.
Anyway, I fell asleep sometime before 5 a.m., and woke up around 10 today. I immediately started working on the paper, and I worked on it nonstop until 5 p.m., then rushed to get to class by 5:30. When I walked in, I expected to see the professor standing there going on and on and on some more in taking the roll, which takes a minimum of 45 minutes every week. He wasn't there. His wife died. She died last week during our class, and he found her when he got home that night.
How much sadder does it get than that? You're married to someone for 50 years, and you come home from work and find him or her dead. God help him. I can't even imagine living without TH now, and we've only been together for 5 years. Add another 45+ years to that, and then jerk it away? What else is there, after all that time?
I suppose learning that his wife had been ill for some time put things into perspective. It explains why he lets class out 2 hours early every week, for example. It might also explain why he's been kind of a grump the last 5 or 6 weeks. Maybe he knew. Even if he didn't, it goes without saying that he had plenty of heavy stuff to think about besides whether his classes were going well.
Professor or no professor, I got my paper turned in on time. It was 24 pages total. We were required to write a dedication with our paper, which I thought was so stupid that I considered leaving it out. At the last minute, I thought of a good dedication. Here goes: This paper is dedicated to the many elementary and high school teachers who endured my juvenile disrespect while they worked without recognition or complaint to equip me with the education that I did not deserve, and to my parents, who always took the teacher's side.
Now that's a good dedication, if I do say so mahsef, even though we are talking about a crappy paper that is never going to be read again. I doubt the dedicatees give a damn.
The class was slightly less boring than usual because there were two Irish guys there to speak about education in Ireland. Their accents were fabulous, and I learned that it's absolutely true that Irish people talk with their hands. I do that, and someone once told me the joke What do you call an Irishman with no hands? Speech impaired. Anyway, their presentation lasted only one hour and when it was over the prof covering the class tonight was under the impression that we wanted to hear him talk. We didn't. It was clear that everyone was exhausted and just wanted to turn the thing in, get the last presentation out of the way, and get the hell out of there. The final is next week.
On my way home, I decided that I didn't want to go home. I caught a glimpse of a friend's truck outside of a local restaurant/bar, so I went inside, thinking that I could sit and chat for a half hour or so before coming home, since I had been pretty much locked in here for the last 48 hours. As soon as I walked in, my friend was walking out. Worse yet, the only person in their group who was not leaving was a crazy woman, and she trapped me fair and square. I mean my timing could not have been worse, and she cornered me.
Have you ever met one of those people who is so crazy that they talk to you when you are actively ignoring them, and intentionally putting out "go the hell away" signals? One of those people who you can tell have spent years in therapy in some point, but didn't get the crazy out? It's like she went to therapy for long enough that she learned all the lingo, and she even speaks in a therapy session-esque rhythm, but she's still nucking futs. They talk regardless of whether you're listening. They just walk up and sit down and fucking get right to it like the clock is ticking and they've got fifty minutes and they'd better get to the source of all their life's problems before the bell sounds. They just start going on about their personal issues-- very personal issues. When you try to back up or give signals that you need some space, they come closer. They put their hands on you. That kind of crazy. Inescapable crazy. The kind of person who talks so incessantly that there is NO chance for you to do the wrap it up routine that lets them know you're ready to leave. You just have to stand up, grab your keys, and walk off, leaving them there mid-sentence, because as inappropriate as it sounds, that's the only way out.
And to think I went there to relax. As soon as I saw her, I knew I was trapped, and I immediately wished I had just come straight home. The only reason I escaped (after about 20 of the longest minutes of my life) was because some unsuspecting young women walked up and distracted her for a minute. I stood up, left my Diet Coke there on the table, and snuck out. I told the girls "good luck" as I walked by. They didn't get it then. I'm guessing they get it now.
My head hurts. Time for that Meclizine.
Last night I stayed up until about 3:30 a.m., and I was actively working on the paper from about 3:00 p.m. until then, with a small break when TH got home at 1 a.m. Since I was drinking coffee most of that time, I was awake in bed for at least an hour after that. My heart was doing that excessively loud and fast pounding thing, and I felt like I was coming out of my skin. I contemplated getting up and trying to work some more, but it was one of those deals where I was too wired to fall asleep, but too tired to think clearly. Every time I attempt to use caffeine to allow myself to work longer, I remember that not only does it not work, but it also makes rest impossible and makes you miserable.
Advance planning is the only way to go. I'm going to make a smart old woman, as my dad would say.
Anyway, I fell asleep sometime before 5 a.m., and woke up around 10 today. I immediately started working on the paper, and I worked on it nonstop until 5 p.m., then rushed to get to class by 5:30. When I walked in, I expected to see the professor standing there going on and on and on some more in taking the roll, which takes a minimum of 45 minutes every week. He wasn't there. His wife died. She died last week during our class, and he found her when he got home that night.
How much sadder does it get than that? You're married to someone for 50 years, and you come home from work and find him or her dead. God help him. I can't even imagine living without TH now, and we've only been together for 5 years. Add another 45+ years to that, and then jerk it away? What else is there, after all that time?
I suppose learning that his wife had been ill for some time put things into perspective. It explains why he lets class out 2 hours early every week, for example. It might also explain why he's been kind of a grump the last 5 or 6 weeks. Maybe he knew. Even if he didn't, it goes without saying that he had plenty of heavy stuff to think about besides whether his classes were going well.
Professor or no professor, I got my paper turned in on time. It was 24 pages total. We were required to write a dedication with our paper, which I thought was so stupid that I considered leaving it out. At the last minute, I thought of a good dedication. Here goes: This paper is dedicated to the many elementary and high school teachers who endured my juvenile disrespect while they worked without recognition or complaint to equip me with the education that I did not deserve, and to my parents, who always took the teacher's side.
Now that's a good dedication, if I do say so mahsef, even though we are talking about a crappy paper that is never going to be read again. I doubt the dedicatees give a damn.
The class was slightly less boring than usual because there were two Irish guys there to speak about education in Ireland. Their accents were fabulous, and I learned that it's absolutely true that Irish people talk with their hands. I do that, and someone once told me the joke What do you call an Irishman with no hands? Speech impaired. Anyway, their presentation lasted only one hour and when it was over the prof covering the class tonight was under the impression that we wanted to hear him talk. We didn't. It was clear that everyone was exhausted and just wanted to turn the thing in, get the last presentation out of the way, and get the hell out of there. The final is next week.
On my way home, I decided that I didn't want to go home. I caught a glimpse of a friend's truck outside of a local restaurant/bar, so I went inside, thinking that I could sit and chat for a half hour or so before coming home, since I had been pretty much locked in here for the last 48 hours. As soon as I walked in, my friend was walking out. Worse yet, the only person in their group who was not leaving was a crazy woman, and she trapped me fair and square. I mean my timing could not have been worse, and she cornered me.
Have you ever met one of those people who is so crazy that they talk to you when you are actively ignoring them, and intentionally putting out "go the hell away" signals? One of those people who you can tell have spent years in therapy in some point, but didn't get the crazy out? It's like she went to therapy for long enough that she learned all the lingo, and she even speaks in a therapy session-esque rhythm, but she's still nucking futs. They talk regardless of whether you're listening. They just walk up and sit down and fucking get right to it like the clock is ticking and they've got fifty minutes and they'd better get to the source of all their life's problems before the bell sounds. They just start going on about their personal issues-- very personal issues. When you try to back up or give signals that you need some space, they come closer. They put their hands on you. That kind of crazy. Inescapable crazy. The kind of person who talks so incessantly that there is NO chance for you to do the wrap it up routine that lets them know you're ready to leave. You just have to stand up, grab your keys, and walk off, leaving them there mid-sentence, because as inappropriate as it sounds, that's the only way out.
And to think I went there to relax. As soon as I saw her, I knew I was trapped, and I immediately wished I had just come straight home. The only reason I escaped (after about 20 of the longest minutes of my life) was because some unsuspecting young women walked up and distracted her for a minute. I stood up, left my Diet Coke there on the table, and snuck out. I told the girls "good luck" as I walked by. They didn't get it then. I'm guessing they get it now.
My head hurts. Time for that Meclizine.
Well, TH probably thinks it serves you right for stopping to begin with......
That reminded me of the Sex & the City episode where one Carrie's friends had left her husband and she started talking on and on to this guy at a bar. He finally looked at her and said "Don't you ever just shut the f..k up?" I've wanted to say that to a woman I work with ever since.......because she DOESN'T. EVER.
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7:09 PM