In my case, it would be much more likely to be a stout little Tazmanian devil who goes by the name of Shakes, but nevertheless I'm as full of excuses as the kiddos I teach. Since school has started I have been a very bad blogger.
And honestly, kind of a hypocrite.
Every day I tell my students I'm not interested in their excuses. Just do your work seems to be my never-ceasing mantra. Don't have your homework because milk spilled on it? Just do your work. Ink out on your printer? Just do your work. Dare to complain to me about the heat (like I can even fix that? Really?) Just. Do. Your. Work.
And here I squat. Like the toad I am. Don't get me wrong--I do my work--that is, I work hard while I'm on the clock. Then, by the time I get home I just want to curl up and figure out the crossword puzzles that the librarians ever-so-kindly print off for me. I am actually so lazy that I bark out commands to Joe--my designated Google captain.
Poor Joe. Never a cross word over my crosswords, though I know he gets tired of providing me with all of the answers that involve sports or the armed forces. And when absolutely necessary, he searches the answers for me so I don't even have to leave his recliner that I've taken to hijacking. It's so comforting.
Well, it was comforting. Until Joe gave me a sidelong look tonight when I asked him if there was any other trio famous for their beards besides ZZ Top because it wasn't fitting in my puzzle. Then I realized that the sadistic bastards who created the NY Times crossword (ahem, Will Shortz) were counting two ZZ's as one space. During my squeal of triumph Joe pooped on my parade.
"You know," he said frankly (for Joe does not say anything any other way), "Your crosswords are really cutting into your blog time."
"Blog time/shmog time," I responded maturely (for I do not say anything any other way).
And then I had an epiphany. I am as bad as the kids I teach. Except instead of my parents hollering at me to get off the video games and do my homework, I have my husband telling me I need to get out from under my puzzles. He was then ever-so-kind enough to comandeer my puZZle so I could refocus on my writing.
Helpful? Definitely. A diabolical attempt to get at my puzzle? Perhaps.