In my defense, the jojoba oil treatments have been doing wonders for my dry hair, but the excess oil has to be shampooed out before I leave the house. It makes the thin ends of my hair thicker and shinier afterwards.
At 5:15 am, my phone rang. My father needed me to take him to the emergency room, and I only had time to quickly throw on clothes, pop in my contacts, and drive to his house, mostly asleep. Let me put it this way, I was so sleepy that I was confused about the light on the eastern horizon. I remember thinking that if it was this bright at 3 am, running at 5 might not be so scary. I did have the presence of mind to remember that the ER is always cold, so I put on heavy sweats and knee socks.
I know that when people looked at me they must have thought I'm a greaseball who never washes her hair, but the reason my hair was coated in oil is that I wash mine daily and I probably shouldn't. Jojoba oil is a good thing.... Unless someone who doesn't know about it sees you for the first time in over 20 years with no makeup and with lank, oily hair.
I thought nobody was paying attention to my hair anyway, because I wasn't the one there for medical treatment. :D. But I was recognized... Lol. Oh well. You can't expect people arriving at the ER before dawn to look pretty, and anyway, my appearance was irrelevant.
So when the issues were treated, we were home a quick four hours later. Thank goodness it was a slow Saturday night and there were only two other patients there. I'm glad I took Dad, because it turned out that he had a couple of minor complications that could worsen quickly, if unnoticed. His most important complaint was taken care of too.
And then I went home and slept until 3:15 pm, having wasted most of the day I needed to prep for my evaluation this week. (I did manage to mow my yard for presumably the last time this year. Crazily, snow is predicted for Tuesday.)
Should I be stressing myself out over this evaluation? Some say no, it's just my job riding on a dog and pony show that is not effective teaching formulated for my students' needs, but rather teaching to the needs of a rubric that doesn't take my kids into consideration. After all, I teach properly on a daily basis, and these evaluations just prove it.
But they don't. I think there are something like 51 different things I'm supposed to do while I teach, to satisfy the rubric in a 50 minute class period filled with interruptions. I don't believe it is a measurement of effective teaching, but I do believe that if I were a sorceress, I might be able to make everything align perfectly with that rubric if I can determine the correct day when all the planets will align.
Rubbish. I'm inclined to say screw it, I can't make a good score anyway (as I already knew), so I may as well not even try anymore. Me being stressed out over it won't help me do a good job anyway. Last year it just made me ill and I didn't have any outlet for relieving the stress, so I stayed home from work, stayed in bed, and fasted for 24 hours. My stomach was too knotted up to eat anyway.
If it goes badly and my Lands End order arrives quickly, I'll be spending quality time in my new bathrobe with a single glass of wine. If I get nervous this week, I'll have a glass of wine. The point is that I have a large bottle of sweet California red wine to enjoy and I'm tired of the sick, nervous feeling I've been dealing with lately. I will deal with my nonstop internal earthquake one way or another.
The trick is, I believe, to not care anymore. I'm working on it. Heck, the world has already lost what little sparkle it held for me anyway. I bet it'll be easier for me to put on that reassuring smile that others demand. :)
I used to care so much about everything and everyone, foolishly enough, but I finally realized my feelings don't matter to anyone but me. (Besides, it's exhausting being concerned about others' feelings when I know they just want to spit in my face while I'm helping them.) I'm just a stepping stone most of the time, and the rest, I don't even exist. I've seen that life is better for the cold-hearted and selfish. They get what they want.
It's better to stick with people like my Dad. I know he cares. (Though he doesn't understand me, I do understand him all too well. We are cut from the same cloth.)