The air conditioner is too cold in the office and the air is too muggy outside. I didn't get enough sleep last night and my eyelids are droopy, but I still have to proofread the entire paper before I go home tonight. Stories, obituaries, sports, crime, headlines, ads, these columns - all the things that you can scan over or skip altogether, we have to read every word each week.
Since I'm whining, you probably want to skip this column right now. I mean, what other job could I do that would require me to attend every concert in town, and also allow me backstage? Or to get front row seats at the Thomson High Baseball playoffs and even get to go in the dugout to talk to players? Okay, technically my cohorts, Billy and Jason did that, but I could have if I was the sports writer that day. Billy and Jason also get the excitement of covering crime at all hours of the night. Thankfully, I don't have to do that. I'd rather be hugging my pillows.
As the education writer, I get to go to other school events, such as Renaissance Rallies. There, they do fun things like dress their teachers in humiliating costumes, scream uncontrollably and have hula-hoop contests. I was pretty good at hula-hooping when I was young. But they make smaller hoops these days than they did back then. Better for the environment, I guess.
Come to think of it, the hips moved better in those days, too.
I was reminded how old I'm getting last Sunday when my oldest son took me out for dinner for Mother's Day. As we talked, I remembered that he will be turning 20 later this year. And even though he has a chin full of hair (it's the style for men these days), his mom still thinks he's cute as a button, and remembers how she used to scrub the dirt off those chubby little cheeks every night.
Later that evening, I commented to my own mom about how I couldn't believe I was the mother of a son who is all grown. She just gave me that "you're-telling-me-something-I-already-know" look, smiled, and quietly said she understood. How do moms always already know everything, anyway? I've been one for almost two decades, and I still haven't got that figured out.
Oh well. Let me take this time to wish my Mom a belated Happy Mother's Day. (Since I didn't get to occupy this column space last week and deliver the message early.) I feel sorry for the rest of y'all, because I know my Mom's the greatest. (Dry those tears, Mom.)
Besides, she's probably the only one who is still reading at this point.