Typical Tuesday Butt-kicking

Tuesdays are tough-- I dragged myself out of bed for Tuesday AM basketball-- now that our school doesn't allow non-district employees to play, it's vital that I make it so we have ten-- and when I made the left onto 27, I saw flashing lights and my first thought was: who me? but, of course, it was me-- I guess I ran a red light-- I truly didn't see it, but the cop let me go, perhaps because I was in old man basketball gear and wearing a school ID; or perhaps because I apologized; or perhaps because he graduated from East Brunswick High School-- who knows?-- but I made it to school on time, shot quite well from deep, covered some very young people, and totally overdid it . . . then I quickly showered, threw on my sandals, raced to class, and graded a buttload of college essays and some sophomore timed writings while my students watch Grosse Pointe Blank . . . and I think I read too many essays in the dark because by noon I had a splitting headache, the kind where it feels like there's a spike in your head, right above your eyeball-- but the nurse gave me some Tylenol and I ate some enchiladas and then Stacey provided me with a gluttonous amount of Swedish fish, and that seemed to mollify the headache-- then I taught a couple more classes in a post-headache-haze, drove home, accompanied my son to the Post Office to mail seven packages of Lladró ceramic statues that he sold on eBay-- but we had to leave the Post Office line several times because he got a zip code wrong and he didn't write return addresses on the boxes-- lessons learned-- and then I went to acupuncture and Dana really zapped my neck and calves with a bunch of needles and now I'm sore and tired but I've still got to cook dinner and scrub off some mold that Ian noticed on the ceiling in the shower . . . typical Tuesday.