A Case of the Mondays

Well, that's what I thought was happening to me today.  


All weekend long, I had been really stressed out about starting my reading unit and I think it got to the point where I was putting so much pressure on this stupid unit that I could do anything.  It was like trying to dig through a brick wall with the plaque scraper the dental hygienist uses.  So I get to school today and Nikki and I work through the lesson.  I finally figure out what I'm doing and have my stack of crap to copy for the morning when the bell rings.


So instead of making copies I have to go pick up the kids.  Then I have to go back upstairs, make sure Nikki will stay in the room with them, find a kid to lead morning, and then run back downstairs to make copies.  Except that the copier in the teachers' lounge said "Call for service" so I had to go to the office and that copier first tried to make my copies on legal paper, and then tried to be out of regular paper, and then I had to pee so bad I thought I was going to die because I drank my whole mug of coffee on my way to school.


I finally make it back upstairs, give the kids 2 minutes to wrap of their game, 3 minutes to get ready for the day, teach reading and math, wait for Nikki to come back, run down to seminar (5 minutes--dammit!), and sit through seminar.  From the time I became late to seminar until about 4:18p.m., my day rapidly devolved.  Everything and anything that could possible annoy me did.  Big time.  By the time I parked my car this afternoon I was a giant ball of red hot, seething rage.  It's a good thing that Kate and Libb weren't home when I got here because I think I would have two less friends if they were.  As I'm sitting in my apartment, stewing in my anger, I realize the reason everything is so freaking annoying today:  I have the most raging case of PMS known to man.  That's why I was unnecessarily annoyed driving home from school.  That's why I overreacted when Christine wrote down my name for being 5 minutes late.  That's why I couldn't calmly accept the fact that there is no organization in my program.  It's not really me.  It's the hormones.