After a long and tiring day of orientation for my baking course at college, I finally managed to get home with half of my load of books and gear for my classes. At one point during the afternoon I was standing in an empty hall, looking at my tiny locker, my huge assortment of shiny, expensive things spread all over the floor around me and trying to figure out how to sort what I needed to drag onto transit with me versus what I should try to shove, Tetris style, into this little metal box I had just rented for the year. I had hit a mental fatigue block and suspect I was wearing a profoundly confused expression and I must thank the other student who came to my rescue with moral support. And maybe a little comfort from his also confused expression as we sorted my stuff together.
I will admit, as I carried my huge white box full of knives and other pointy things home by train and trolley, I did wonder how the law qualifies concealed weapons. At one point a security guard nodded at me and my first emotional response was “SHIT, DON’T LET HIM SEARCH ME!” but he nodded at a woman behind me too so it’s possible I was being a bit melodramatic.
This afternoon I am feeling occasional moments of excitement as I prepare for class. Mainly as I sort through my baking kit, removing wrappers and tags. It’s rather impressive all laid out.
My daughters were very eager to assist, the oldest exclaiming “Those are some damn fine knives!”
Seeing as the girls will be making dinner more often now that I’m in school, I’ll encourage their excitement.
Wonder how well “My daughters ate my homework” will work as an excuse.