(Don't) Come and knock at our door. We HAVE been waiting for you, though.
<-- No. Don't do it. I can't hear you when you knock. Please ring the doorbell. It's right there by the door. If you come over at night, it's the little round thing that's all lit up. This is a big house, and if you knock, I can't hear you unless I'm standing in the landing in hopes of someone coming over and not understanding what the little button is for, and knocking instead. We put that doorbell there so people could get our attention when they're at the door and want us for something. Knocking ain't gonna do it. I spend most of my time back here in my son’s old room the computer room, and with the ceiling fan whirring and two big computers humming and the music making the walls breathe in and out, I can’t hear you if you knock.
Therefore, when you come over, and I hope it’s soon, and I hope you stay for a long time, please don’t just knock when you get here. You might be standing there on the porch for a while.
The times, the times, I’ve looked out the window and seen delivery trucks and cars (and a few motorcycles) and even some pedestrians, going down my long, long driveway AWAY from my house. I hadn’t even known they were here. They didn’t ring the bell. I CAN’T HEAR YOU KNOCKING FROM WAY BACK HERE IN THIS ROOM!!!
Use the doorbell. Really, please, use it. We put it there for you.
Potpourri for a Thousand, Please, Alex.
Anne’s new baby is beautiful beyond words. Please click on over to her blog and congratulate her!
I don’t have much to say tonight. Well, actually, that’s not quite true. I have a lot I’d like to say tonight, but I don’t know how. I’m feeling very down.
A student had a breakdown in one of my classes this morning and I’m feeling so bad for him I can’t stand it. My heart hurts for him.
I talk too much anyway.
Melpomene, Please Go Away
Yesterday’s post was about me crying over MASH. The post before that was me crying over a baby, ripped from his father’s arms by a tornado.
Today finds me crying over two things.
Thing One: I discovered today that the baby’s father is in one of my classes.
Thing Two: I had dinner with my friend Frau tonight and she told me of a conversation she overheard between two of her female students. It went something like this:
Girl One: I promised my Mom that I’d tell her, the first time I have sex.
Girl Two: But you’ve already had sex!
Girl One: Well, when I mean it, I’ll tell her.
Both girls are fourteen years old.
To quote every little old lady in the world: “What are we coming to?”
Try not to think about the fact that I’m neither little nor a lady. (heh)
But honestly. . . . what are we coming to?
I’m sad tonight. What are we coming to?
