Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup on instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. Lee Areum is a 29-year-old Korean hottie who used to sing with a girl K-pop group named T-ara. Anyway, she's going through a bad divorce, and recently she accused her former husband of beating her up and abusing the children. Well, it seems that stress has gotten the better of her. She's now in the hospital recovering from a suicide attempt. Her current boyfriend is lending emotional support, but the poor lady is still unconscious.
I dragged Rice-Boy out of bed at 6 a.m., and we had a short conversation as he munched on his breakfast.
I said, "What time did you get home last night?"
He said, "Around 9:30. You were asleep."
"This fucking cold has been killing me."
"Do you feel any better?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "My eyes are still itchy, and my throat is still scratchy. Plus I have a tickle deep in my anus. But other than that, I'm as right as rain."
"I guess that's a good thing."
I patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me. It could always be worse. I'm just glad that I wasn't born in Djibouti."
I caught the bus and made it to my office by 7:30 a.m. Then I called my mother using Facebook Messenger. She was riding in her car with my sister. Sis is officially on Easter break. She doesn't go back to school until Monday.
I said, "Is your principal still breaking your balls?"
Sis frowned. "Not just her. The entire leadership is after me with a vengeance."
"Why didn't you contact your union rep?"
"I will. But I feel like an avalanche has fallen on my head at the moment."
I popped a piece of nicotine gum into my mouth and began to chew like crazy. "You better get on the ball. Those bastards are going to abuse you until you fire a canon ball across their bow."
"How do you know?"
I sighed heavily. "In case you forgot, I worked in a public high school for five years. I've seen it happen to lots of people. If you're an outsider to the community, then you're pretty much behind the eight ball."
"OK! I'll call the fucking guy."
My giant friend Richard Hurtz stopped by my room for a brief chat. He bore terrible news.
"Seven teachers are out today because of influenza."
I sucked in a giant breath. "Seven?"
"Yes, and the rest of us will have to cover their classes. So get ready for a long fucking day." He paused for a moment and looked me in the eyes. "Aren't you sick, too?"
I nodded. "I've been under the weather for nearly a week."
"That could be a lucky break. If you pop positive on the flu test, you can take five days off and relax in bed."
I shook my head from side to side. "I simply can't do it."
"Why?"
"I'm fucking drowning in work. Sadly, I just can't spare the time."
"Are you trying to play the good soldier?"
"No. In fact, I'd love some time off. But there are too many i's to dot and t's to cross."
"Well, if I catch your illness, then I might be forced to punch you right on the fucking head."
"I'll take my chances."
I eventually got home at 6 p.m. and vacuumed my pad. After that, I sat on my sofa and enjoyed Netflix. I'm currently watching an Italian drama called Super Sex. It's pretty damn good. The main topic seems to be the horrors of sexual addiction. I'm having a wonderful time.
