"Motherfucker", screeched Mr. Scoop as he bolted upright in bed, trying to free himself from the tangle of sheets. Spiders. He'd been dreaming about the spiders again. Despite the rabbit pulse throbbing away in his ears and every fiber of his being screaming at him to purify the room with fire, he woke up enough to realize that setting the bed aflame with his Zippo would have been A Bad Idea. Not only was I in the bed, but we probably would have gotten in trouble with the nice folks who ran the Holiday Inn. Probably. The hotel was undergoing renovations and, for all I know, the wing we were staying in may not even be there when we go back next year.
Anyway, I slept through the whole thing. I only know about it because Mr. Scoop told me about it the next day while he was mainlining coffee in an attempt to offset his inability to get back to sleep after the spiders. He blamed all the fresh air and California sunshine for upsetting his balance. He could be right. It was having the exact opposite effect on me. Whenever I am exposed to sunlight, it sucks the life out of me like...some great sucking thing. Any movie with Jessica Simpson, for example. Sends me right to sleep. An angry sleep where I grind my teeth a lot. I think I'm allergic or something.
Although I've now been back home for several days, I can't quite seem to shake California time. Eight days I've been back. Eight days that I can't quite make myself get to bed before midnight and even then I'm watching tv until I eventually drift off. Sleep deprived, I've been dragging myself to the Professional Development programming my school has been offering for the mandatory recertification requirements instituted by the state. Because, no matter how many classes I take, I'm just not qualified enough to teach your children. So says the state. All hail the great and mighty state. The professor teaching the class appears to have caught on to my lack of enthusiasm and pointed out that my tone seemed "somewhat facetious" during the "peer editing role play" that was the product of my involvement in enforced cooperative activity. You'd think that a course that was about being sensitive to varied learning styles would be more inclined to let me learn by working by myself. With an online option that lets me attend class pantsless, hungover and, most importantly, alone. Then I wouldn't worry so much, when I discover I'm sitting next to a relation of one of the district administrators, that I might smell like whiskey.