Whoa oh! I gotta go! Back to schoooooool. Again!
Sorry. Flashback moment there.
What can I say? Michelle Pfeiffer made being a Pink Lady the ultimate girl goal.
A few weeks ago Steve brought home a flyer for a full scholarship offered to military spouses as long as we took a specific course. Most people would look at the course, roll their eyes, and mutter "I can see why it's free. ICK!" I looked at it and thought, "That'll be fun!" Steve's in the first camp, but knew I'd be in the second camp, so here I am... going back to school. I will admit to nearly whomping Steve when he handed me some cash, snickered, and said, "Don't forget your lunch money."
What class? Oh yeah. Forgot that part, didn't I? I'm taking a tax preparation course through H&R Block. And if I can somehow convince them that I'm not a walking catastrophe they might even consider hiring me if I score well enough on my final. Here's hoping!
So the first class was Saturday. Well, actually, the first two classes. Because of the schedule for the course we're actually having to take one class before lunch and the next class after lunch. Which, for obvious reasons, makes homework a challenge. The instructor feels we're being cheated a little, but she assures us that if we just take a few hours and carefully read the material a couple of times we should have minimal trouble figuring things out.
A few hours of study time. In my house. Bahahahahaahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa!
That's okay. I'm an academic overachiever. Or so the myth goes. I'll manage to get the work done, even if it means caffeine pills and a few sunrises. Better get my books torn apart and organized before the next class. Gotta make a run to Office Depot, then!
Wee! School supply shopping. For me! Why do I feel like I'm a teenager again? *cough* First things first. I need to get them to punch holes in my textbook and workbooks so I can get the pages put into a binder the way I want them. BUT! The holes have to go on the outside of the perforation, not the inside.
When the kid at the counter gives you a look that is a combination of a deer in headlights and "You're completely nuts, you know that right?" it's highly unlikely you're gonna get what you want. I know he was looking at the book and the perfectly good perforation and wondering what was wrong with just ripping the pages out of the book as I needed them rather than what I was trying to describe to him. Since I didn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell of explaining what my intentions were, I just thanked him for his time and headed farther into the store to spend money on yet more school supplies while plotting how I could bring my plans to fruition myself.
Wait. I have a three hole punch at home! It'll take several hours to punch each individual page the way I want, but it can be done! Success! I'll do it myself.
Once I got home, I bolted up to my desk to retrieve my hole punch. Only it wasn't there. Why wasn't it there?
"Who took my hole punch and didn't put it back?!?"
"What's a hole punch?"
"Can we have some ice cream?"
Cue the temper flaring, the tyrannical and irrational rant about people taking my things and not bothering to ask permission or even put the items back where they belong so I can actually use my stuff myself once in a blue moon. This is the part where the kids find some corner of their playroom to entertain themselves, Sarah disappears into her room with artwork or a book, and Steve suddenly finds either the television or a computer game absolutely fascinating.
About forty minutes later, I finally found my three hole punch. It was tucked into a box up in the storage area.
Where I had hidden it.
So I'd be able to find it whenever I needed it.
Without having to do the scavenger hunt thing.