That Kind of Day

The copy machine made me cry today.  A red-nosed, black-mascara-streaked, gullywasher.  And what's better is that my tear ducts waited to betray me until I walked into the meeting room stuffed with 30 colleagues, late (copier, remember?), looking somewhat akin to a pack mule lugging in my teacher bags exploding with binders of teacher stuff and of course a 47 pound laptop.   I had to step around the guy presenting, through the blinding stream of projected data, and over 12 of my peers and their teacher debris to reach the one available seat.  ***insert Niagara Falls here***

Pretty pitiful, right?  But it gets better.  One of my precious colleagues leans over and asks, "Are you okay?" at which point the tear flow rate jumps by 87%.  By this time we've switched presenters, and the sweet woman keeps eyeing me concernedly while she speaks.  I'm sniffling continually at this point to keep from dripping on my papers when she stops mid-sentence to ask me, "Are you okay?"  Now imagine the sound created when your 30 colleagues turn in unison to see who she's talking to.

Damn copier.

But our tech guy installed a new school computer while I was meeting/sobbing today so by 4:00 I was in a considerably better mood.  Just before we left school this evening, I zipped down to the workroom for one final battle with the copier.  Apparently it decided that it did not have a death-wish after all and proceeded to copy, double sided, with staples, and a smile.  Thank you Jesus!  So while I'm happy dancing around workroom, a custodian is cleaning the bathroom, door wide open.  Now, maybe I'm not familiar with proper janitorial protocol, but would YOU use the toilet brush to also clean the seat, lid, and flusher handle?   I tried, oh I tried, to UNsee that moment.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.  Right?  I am probably going to die now from whatever kills you when you hold it too long because I will NEVER be able to pee at school again.  Ever.