I might be dead

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This came up when I Googled “dado joint.”  I have no idea.

Sitting very near to me is a pile of paper, about an inch high, that I will need to absorb to some as-yet unclear degree in order to pass an examination on Friday.  The test is going to take two fucking hours, and right now I have not the slightest idea what they think is going to take that long.  I am and always have been a fast test-taker, so I expect this to take no more than twenty minutes.  In theory, I ought to be studying at the moment.

I’m going to save it for tomorrow.  I haven’t had a good old-fashioned cramming session in a few years.  We’ll see if I’m still any good at it.

A shocking admission: despite my exhaustion, this has been a worthwhile trip, and there is nothing happening tomorrow that makes me think it’s likely that I’ll change my mind.  As a lifelong educator the notion that professional development and/or training might not be personally insulting, much less actually useful, is almost unprecedented.  Meeting with vendors is great.  Granted, they’re all salesmen too and thus hucksters to some degree or another, but I’m actually learning shit.

Oh, and there’s HGTV on the hotel room TV, so you know how I’m really spending my evenings, right?


Also, people who live nearby are posting on Facebook that the local weather services are muttering about a foot of snow on Friday.  If the world suddenly ends you know why.  Good luck, thanks for all the fish, and all that.

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