Last night I used my best, "Daddy, please" voice to get his legal advice. I thought all hope was lost. But today the most bestest dad in the whole world called to let me know a whole bunch of things I can't divulge, but which made me squeal with delight when I heard them and made me call and say, "Is this the most best dad in the whole world??" That guy's the best! Also, he's going to get my duck food and dog food tomorrow and he's going to bring it to the house and put it in the appropriate containers and pick up the thing I can't speak about which I'm going to leave outside.
In other news, I knew yesterday that today was going to be miserable because I had 4 1/2 hours of Family presentations awaiting me. That 4 1/2 hours of "Voici mon mère. Il esssst belle. Il est 36 ans" I told Sadonna maybe I was going to need to take some pain medicine to get through the day. I knew today was going to be a "why do I like French?" day. I didn't know that I was going to lose my marbles half way through the day, so much so that I had to put myself in a time out in Gretchen's room. I said, "I"m going to walk into Mrs. Peratt's room and count to ten." I've only ever been that mad maybe two other times in my career. Once was in France, when a girl wrote "FUCK" on the chalkboard and when I saw it, I lost all my billes and screamed "QUI... A... ECRIT... ÇA? QUI??!!" And then I stomped myself as fast as I could to the train station only to find myself pushing the open button the train door frantically while the train started to move away. I don't remember if that night I met the chemists, but I'm sure there was alcohol when I got back to Strasbourg. And the other time, I'm sure it's happened, but I can't remember.
To get over losing my marbles, I ate three sugar cookies and one and one half shortbread cookies, chili cheese fries and a bacon avocado cheeseburger. I feel better.
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