Q: Who in literature killed more chickens than anyone else?
A: Macbeth, because he did murder most foul.
Went to see the sawbones after work. She said I was asymptomatic at this point, but I need to keep an eye out for certain signs of Impending Death. She said that because of how my surgery was done back in '74, if I ever do need some kind of implant to help my heart, the surgeons would have to come in from the opposite side from normal and maneuver around some unusual inner anatomy. I said, "That sounds like it's a procedure that few people could do well and would be very likely to be fucked up." The doctor said, "Yes, that's about right." Lovely. But for now, I seem to be free of the need for such drastic measures.
The doctor called me a "sweet kid." It's kind of irksome to be called a sweet kid when you're nearly forty. Damn these boyish, handsome features!
Light day today, mostly helping out in Mr. C's kindergarten room. He's supposedly leaving the school next year due to stress (that's not just gossip, it's from the vice-Head), but nothing is official yet. Indeed, he looks a bit more relaxed lately. This could be attributable to the news that the K teachers will have assistants next year.
I went to the VH and asked how certain the plans for me to be in the K room next year are.
She looked alarmed and asked, "Why, don't you want it?"
I assured her I did, but I just wanted to know for my own peace of mind. She replied that as far as she knew, it was as definite as I wanted it to be. If I wanted Ms. G's room, I'd have it. I said that was good, and I'd asked because the K teachers were looking happy, and I was worried about Ms. G deciding to stay after all.
The VH got a sort of sly twinkle in her eye and said, "Well, I can be a bit devious sometimes. Ms. G was very upset with being in the K room, and wanted another grade. I asked her if there was anything that could make her stay, and she said no. So we arranged the transfer. Then I told the K teachers about the assistants next year."