Monday evening, pre-Coldplay show. Another “woe is me” post I’m afraid; when it rains, it pours.
Just a quick update on yesterday’s post before moving onto today: Turns out Sharaun’s car problems were covered under warranty, which is great – take that Axiom. Next, the stereo fix-it place can’t get the Ford in until Wednesday – which means I’m driving around with nothing but the rhythms of roadnoise to jam on until then, hey – at least it’s better than R. Kelly. Not sure what the stereo overhaul will run me, but hoping for less than the deductible I’d pay were I to file an insurance claim. For what it’s worth, I did file a police report, just in case they caught some teenager Friday night with a gymbag full of radios or something. Stupid ghetto neighborhood filled with half-million dollar homes and Cadillac Escalades… I should’ve known it’d be a thief’s Disneyland.
Sharaun called me on her way home from school today in tears… She’s angry and upset with herself for not doing enough to help transition her student teacher into the role of permanent teacher, which he’ll inherit this Friday – her last day before maternity leave. She sobbed about her disorganized classroom, her lack of instruction and guidance to the fledgling prof, and her guilt over “dumping” things on him. I tried my best “listening husband” routine, which seemed to work OK, but it’s hard when she’s so upset. I hate when she’s like that. I tried to remind her that, come Friday, none of that will be her responsibility anymore – and that surely her student teacher has been under her tutelage long enough to take over – but she didn’t seem to agree. Me, if it were my last week of work, I’d be more concerned planning the party I’d be continually throwing for the foreseeable future than any turmoil my leaving might cause.
My TiVo will have not made a daily call in 100 days on Wednesday, and, believe me, it won’t let me forget it.