You probably wonder what on earth I would write about if I didn't work in special education.
Don't worry, I am large, I contain multitudes.
If the day ever comes, DEAR GOD PLEASE LET IT BE THIS INSTANT, IT'S ME MARGARET, and I move on to a new job, I'm sure I will have countless amusing anecdotes to share with you all.
I really don't like "you had to be there" stories, especially when I don't know a story is a "you had to be there" story until I am in the middle of telling it.
I freeze up and my voice trails off into an eke of vapor.
People who've been listening to me, their trusting faces once so certain that my story was really going places, like a TED talk wrapped in an adult diaper, watch my confidence give out and retreat from me in fear.
A crash is coming and they don't want to see how it ends, don't want to witness arms and legs all over the highway, or gawk at a little pair of disembodied lips apologetically whispering, I guess you had to be there.
Even if I don't get a new job that is ripe for the blogging, I can always start spying on my neighbors a lot more than I already do, and then tell you all about the wacky times they have.
Man, they are so wacky.
They mow their lawn regularly and they have a garden. I'm laughing just thinking about it.
One of them wears glasses. *snicker*.
I got some of their mail by accident one time, and when I walked it over to return it to them, they were having a barbecue party. I had to stay and chat and meet some of their friends.
That part wasn't wacky at all; it was awful.