A treatise on the emotional baggage of excrement.
9:31 p.m.
Little Princess and I were co-opted by Hubby to help shovel the driveway this morning in order to get the car out. The Volvo has been inert for months now as it won’t start, either the block heater or the extension chord being at fault, so we are down to one vehicle. I was aching before I started flinging shovelfuls of snow onto the mountainous snowbanks and in incredible pain during the exercise. After all that, my 11:30 a.m. student didn’t show up. I already knew my 1:15 p.m. student wasn’t coming (he was called away for some family emergency and won’t be back before break), but my 2:00 p.m. never showed either. I could have stayed home and slept most of the day. My 3:00 p.m. did arrive, though, even though she was feeling as poopy as I was, so we ended up not really having much of a lesson, just talking about stuff, namely how to get a “black” sound when she sings blues. Oh, and we gossiped.
Apparently the reason the singers like the other singing teacher so much is because she never tells them when they suck. Actually, those were my student’s words, not mine. She was talking to one of her friends (they’re both in drama) who is studying with the other woman and discovered that there is never any pointing out of mistakes or problem spots. Instead, she says that everything is wonderful. I suspected this, actually, but it was nice to have it confirmed. My student was rather aghast, saying, “If your teacher doesn’t tell you when you suck, how do you know when you do?” Somehow I feel vindicated in a rather strange way.
In Latin both Ollie and I were sniffling away, but we made it through class. After supper I went to bed, waking up feeling, if anything, worse with a killer headache which I have medicated, and am now sitting here with a hot cup of cinnamon-apple tea. Little Princess is eating chocolate chips out of the package (we’re all three of us at the kitchen table), a guilty pleasure in which I was also partaking just a little while ago as well, and Buddy Boy is out with friends. He’s been home since Friday night, and I’ve barely seen him. And you wonder why I’m friends with students.
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