Hello, Goodbye

Demicup Cheryl is done her little contract, and I cannot say I am going to miss her.  The only time she seemed briefly human was when she interrupted my game with RW to kick my ass at You Think You Know Canada?  I was already losing (badly) when Demicup Cheryl astounded everyone in the room by knowing every Canadian celebrity, monument, and invention since the dawn of time.  Then she went back to being a silent brooding lump with four boobs.

The principal posted the job and got two applicants: Dancer Chris (who we already know, but who has a background in Dance rather than Art/Drama) and StrangerDanger, who has credentials but not the history.  The principal, of course, elected to hire StrangerDanger because she wouldn't be the one sharing air with her, and she looked better on paper.

By a stroke of luck, StrangerDanger found a better gig before the principal could lock her down, and so Dancer Chris got the job by default.  It just so happens that I like Dancer Chris, who is the right mix of fun and pleasant and bubbly, with just enough uncertainty and maleability to be endearing both to me and to the kids.  And this is what I want, someone who will be pleasant to work with, bring more kids into the program, and not be over-confident in that way that makes me homicidal.

I guess I talk about work a lot.  That's because it eats up too much of my life.



*

B O'C's wife left him.  Left him as in he came home from work one day and was startled to realise that all her clothes and belongings had vanished from their home.  This, after several years of marriage.  Events like this blow my mind, the idea that things like this really happen to normal people who have normal stable lives, or think they do.  It makes me stop and question what it is that makes me so sure my life won't one day explode, what makes me any different.  And I am not sure there is anything that does.  Like B O'C, I think my marriage is in good shape, my relationships rock solid.  But only because my husband came home from work today.  He might not tomorrow.  And when that idea tumbles round inside my head it threatens to give me a concussion.


*