Maybe Wednesdays are just meant to be beastly days.  I'm thinking of scheduling a delivery of flowers for every Wednesday.  And cookies.

I teach math classes to students who struggle-- not just with math, but with managing their bodies and their voices and their attentions.  So it shouldn't shock you that most of my students are boys, bless them.  I am pretty sure I was crop dusted twenty-seven times today.  I am pretty sure those lovelies sneezed on me, coughed on me, exploded on me all morning.

I had to give the clean your nose with a tissue, not your finger talk.  I stilled squirmy arms.  Steadied tippy chairs.  Held my breath.  All while teaching place value and comparing large numbers.

And then.  The dentist.

I hate the dentist.  I mean, I like her.  She's sweet.  But I hate going.  I hate the noises.  I hate the tastes.  I hate the scraping and the rinsing and the polishing.

So, I threw a fit.  Came home and whined to husband.  Moped at the lunch table.  And after the dreaded appointment I promptly walked upstairs, finished my box of chocolates, and ate an ice cream sandwich.  Because that's how I roll.

Flowers would help too.