450. New year

 I am not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. So much so that I am dreading people wishing me a happy new year. I fear I might lash out at them if they do so, pummeling them with my fists like a hysterical woman.  

'Why are you saying that? Do you even mean it? Can't you see it is starting the same way it ended? With you coming here to this prison of the mind and of the soul?'

And then I would be off. And then they would listen to me, or stare at me as if they cared but in fact they would have their brains in over-drive to get them to find the nearest exit.

'You could have prepared earlier and then you would not be so hyper about it.' My husband offers this totally not constructive piece of advice.

'Please.' I say, staring at him.

'Ooooh it's the mummy-stare!' One kids says. Which gets him the mummy-stare.

But it is true. I should have prepared better - and earlier. But I mean how could I prepare classes and mark papers when the whole house smells of stews and cakes and roasts and mulled wine? How could I concentrate when the fire crackles and hisses and sends out beautiful sparks when I rattle it.

'Stop playing with the fire! You pyromaniac!' My husband has been convinced of my having a dangerous addiction to live flames since the first holiday we took together.

So I did no work. And now it is just a shock to my system. 

I get in a little early. I have to get to the copy-room early a) to beat every one else to it (surely I am not the only one who did nothing) and b) to get all copies done in time for my first class.

I get there and it is dark and cold and I am fuming inside. The girl whose job it is to say hello at the gate does not even say happy new year to me. Maybe she knows that if she does I will punch her. I head straight to the dark cold staffroom, it is more like a store room but the wheelbarrow is gone and the copier is back in here.

I place my papers in there, push all the buttons to get my super little booklet that is going to get the kids working quietly for at least 45 minutes.

Brrrrerm. Sputtrrrrt. yiiiiink. Clank.

And then orange and red lights start flashing all over.

I don't believe this! It is jammed. Jammed. At 7:36 on January 6' ... The door opens. Do not say happy new year, please. 

The two teachers who have opened the door stare at me with a look I cannot read. A little surprised, a little shocked, a lot of worry in there too. 

'Happy new year! It's a good start, isn't it?' I say with a nasty grin.

They are still staring with their eyes wide as I slam and bang and reboot the silly machine. They stand there, watching.

The machine starts again, only to jam again. And I go through the whole rigmarole again. They are still watching me!

'Do you want to make some copie? Because at this rate this is going to take a while. But I am not giving up. The kids will have to wait. My own little strike on day one.'

As I unjam the machine and the machine jams again they tell me.

'No, we just wanted to see if this room was opened! I did my work during the holidays.' That person stresses the last part of that sentence a little too much and I take it as an negative appreciation of my professional persona.

'Yes, we were not sure if this room was open. And I went to the main building to do my copies.'

I feel I should punch them. It's for their own good as they clearly are in need of a change of attitude for the new year!