The Sneak

So l put both kids to bed last night. Lauren is down, and then I go to David's room to put him to bed, and there's no one there. I try the living room "David?"
"Yeah, Mom, I'm ready!" he says, running out of the kitchen and down the hall.

I put him to bed, go back and sit with Lauren for awhile, then go out to the kitchen and decide that I need to make the place inhabitable. But as I walk into the main part of the kitchen, I can't help but notice...

my feet stick to the floor.

Quite badly.

The floor looks slight weird. There's obviously been a spill.

I had left the juice pitcher, with about one inch on the bottom, on the counter to remind myself to fill it up after I got done with the kids. David discovered it, and it seems fairly obvious to me that he decided to chug the rest of the juice straight, and ended up pouring it all over the floor. Then he decided to sneak away and think I wouldn't notice what happened.

I was NOT happy. The sticky floor was pretty massive, and really, you couldn't walk through the kitchen without having to cross through it.

After a bit of thought, I decided to leave the juice on the floor, and to leave the entire kitchen the disaster that it was. Since David was the one who made the choice to try and steal the juice, he could make up for that in the morning by not only cleaning up his own disasterous mess, but by helping me with the rest of the kitchen-centered chores that I needed to get done.

I got out the large Magna-Doodle and wrote, "David: See Mom. The floor is sticky. Did you spill?" and I set it in the doorway of his room for him to find when he got up in the morning.

Sure enough, this morning he got up and came out with the thing, claiming he couldn't read it. We went though it letter by letter, and I made him decipher it anyway. "Oh," he says. "Oh yeah, I...I...I...well, I tried to drink some of my tippy and a little bit of it spilled." You tried to drink what? My tippy.
OK, that's one lie. Would you like to try again?
Blink. "I don't remember."
"Oh. Alright, why don't you go over and look at the kitchen counter? Maybe that will help you remember. Why don't you take off your socks and walk through the kitchen and look around, and then come back and tell me what happened?"
"O.K." He pads off and comes back after a bit.
"Oh....well...Mom, I drank the juice, and it spilled, but I cleaned it up with a washcloth and dried it with a towel!"

Sigh.

So at the moment we're at skating lessons, and we'll go back home and start the evil cleanup duties. In fact, everyone gets to help, not just David. I came out this morning and had to move Doug's shirt and Lauren's stuffed animals off the couch before I could even sit down. Grrrrrr.

We also need to attack the lawn again. And I noticed yesterday that our Franken-tree looks pretty darned dead. It had leaves all summer, but now every single one has dried to a brown crisp and while they're still attached to the tree, the whole thing has an air of doom about it. I'm still waiting to see what will happen to the oak tree, too. Almost all of its branches froze this spring and it only managed to produce leaves all up and down the trunk. It's trying to push out a few new branches, but I have no idea if it will make it or not. And the lawn is absolutely horrendous...nothing but weeds, really.

Class is going OK so far. It took me a wonderful 25 minutes to find the actual classroom, because they have a whole new building which I've never even seen, let alone been in. I hadn't officially enrolled in the class, either, but I knew I'd have to have a special signature from the professor in order to enroll. These are upper-level courses, and I don't have the prerequisites on my transcript, so I knew the people at the registration desk would just freak if I didn't show up with a signed form. So deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I decided to attend the first class, get a form signed, and THEN go register and pay my money.

This means I'm trying to find a course in a building that I don't know. I have no schedule, I have no map. I have nothing. So I figure my best bet is to go to the building where the Mac lab USED to be and ask those folks where it moved. They have to had answered this question 1,000 times, surely? So I go to the Fine Arts building and there's no one there. At all. I finally spot some sort of aid in an office and she says, "I don't know. I think it's over there (points) in the Humanities Building."
Buzz. Click.
"Well," I said, trying to be polite and friendly. "I know they moved into a newly-constructed building on campus--"
"I think it's over there in the Humanities Building," she says again, and walks off.

OK, fine. You obviously don't care to speak with me.

So I head towards the Humanities Building and have the good luck to catch an adult coming out.

"Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Mac Lab moved to? The folks is Fine Arts are trying to tell me it's in the Humanities Building, but I'm sure they moved into some of the new construction on campus."

No, she's sure it isn't in her building. She points me towards the new Social Science building. I'm sure that isn't right, but it's new construction, so maybe it's closer. I ask a couple of students who temporarily look terrified at the prospect of answering me. I catch another professor, who is singularly unhelpful. "I didn't even know we HAD a Mac lab on campus," he says in a tone that seemed to add, "Why the hell would anyone want one?" He asks whose class I'm trying to take, shrugs, and announces that HE'S going into THIS building and walks off. I'm now in the lobby of a new building. There are architectural sketches of the building on the wall. Surely a large computer lab would show up on this? Indeed, there's a large, open area labeled "Computer Lab." Ok, I'll try it.

I went up two floors and found the lab...it was a regular computer lab tucked into what could have been the library. The rude professor who had essentially tried to ignore me was at a table at the library, leisurely reading a newspaper.

And then I spotted the receptionist. Receptionists know everything, and they rule the world. SHE had a directory, SHE made a phone call, and contacted another receptionist, and within two minutes I had perfect directions and a blank form waiting for me at the correct building.

Turns out that the building is situated right next to a lake, and there were lots of swallows ducking down to the water and snapping up bugs.

I went in, got my form, got directions, and finally showed up. I didn't catch much hell for it (especially after my long, sad tale). I got my form signed and then went to the bookstore to look at the books I would need. Each one was about $60 or $75. I wrote down the ISBN numbers and took photos of the covers with my cell phone, and then left, leaving the long line of students behind.

I took my form to the registration office. They checked with the computer and then informed me that I couldn't take the class. Um...? Well, I'd need the instructor's permission. I have that, see the signature? But you're enrolling after the class has already started, and you only have a signature to waive the prerequisites, but not to enroll after the classes have already started. See, you missed one class already. No, I didn't, I went to the class AND got the signature at the same time. I was THERE. Yes, but weren't enrolled when you attended. You're enrolling after the start date. You need a signature.

This is why there are school shootings, I'm sure.

The registrar eventually decides it isn't worth it, she'll just call the professor. And then I tried to pay for the class.

I have no cards of any kind.

See, David wants to check for the new state quarters every now and then, and he takes my wallet to go through the change purse. He just never replaced the wallet afterwards.