Friday was the stupidest day I've had in a long, long time. There was an altercation with a colleague and a blazing headache. I left school early, and I took no work home with me. I deliberately left it sitting on the desk and went home. It was a mutinous, rebellious action, and I refuse to apologize for it.
This weekend, I read four pulp fiction novels, made several pots of tea, lay on the couch with Dillon purring supportively in my ears, surfed eBay for vintage Vera scarves and chenille peacock bedspreads, chatted online with two dear friends who are far away, sporadically did laundry, watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, cooked Sunday dinner for my parents, and generally focused on feeling less like a dead teacher and more like a "real" person again.
I had reached a point where this was absolutely necessary. I am now behind in several things, but I can't bring myself to worry about it. It will all get done. I may have to stick a cot in the back of the classroom next week, but at least I will start the week rested and refreshed. I know the ridiculous crap with the coworker will probably flare back up at least once next week, and at some point, I will tell that story here, but I think I will be able to deal with it.
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And then you said.....