Zoned out

You can say I'm wrong, but some people -- maybe it's just the sound of their voices -- make my ears want to take leave from my head. I know I say this often. Actually, every time I start a new class. Good grief! Isn't there a way to absorb necessary materials via diffusion or osmosis? Forget calling me wrong. Call me tired, impatient, frustrated and excited about the weekend. Can you say Homecoming? Not mine, but that of my DH. Funny thing is he's not nearly as excited as I am about the game. In fact, he's almost dismal. I listened to a rant about how Homecoming is not what it used to be. It's about the alumni returning -- not about dances and parties and God knows what. Three minutes into his rant, my brain glazed. I could feel that nasty-looking red jelly stuff people insist on pouring over ham, oozing over every brain cell.

Have you ever felt like that? It seems to happen on a weekly basis nowadays. Every Thursday to be exact. And in no time flat, I'm back to bitching. Husbands always wonder how wives do it. I'm telling you here and now, it's a gift.

Got another question for you. What is the world's record for one person monopolizing four hours of class time? Bet Guinness doesn't have the stats.