Greetings from someone else’s house in the heart of the Appalachians.
Y’know, I always thought that band camp would be easy if I were a staff member. It’s not. It’s as hard or harder. Because now I have to keep track of ten girls, nine of whom are very sweet, all of whom have no fuckin’ clue what they’re doing at one point or another.
Sigh. It’s going to be a long week.
I’m having fun, though, in a way. The fun of being outside, slathering on Coppertone Sport, marching all day. Remembering how well my body knows how to do all this stuff, and that this is the single thing in my life that I do better than anyone I know. I really think everyone has at least one skill like that. This is mine, and it feels good to remember, and even better to give that knowledge to others. It’s taking longer than I expected, though.
And I’m so damn glad I didn’t become a high school teacher. My patience for normal teenagers is quite limited, I’ve found.
I’ve only cursed in front of them once in the past two days, though. Woo!
My office seems to be doing just fine in my absence, which is good.
So far, no interesting Loriestories to tell about camp, but perhaps by the time the week is over I’ll have some.
Till then, I’m out – lickety split.