I was faced with a familiar dilemma yesterday afternoon. I was at a quarter-tank of gas and would need to fill my tank on the way home or wait until the morning. Usually, this situation is remedied considering how much xeroxing I have to do the following morning. I decided to play it by ear. I spent a remarkable hour-plus getting from work to Costco in Waipio yesterday. Since I know that my work-home commute is about 15 miles, I think that means that my average speed on the road was less than 15 miles-per-hour. When you put it that way, it seems even more depressing than having to watch the cars in the lane you finally had the guts to change out of suddenly and inexplicably start moving faster than any other.
I realized very quickly that Costco had turned into Cluster-Eff City because of the potential hurricanes this weekend. Devil Phil on my shoulder said “Nah, come back tomorrow, already, brah!” For a split-second, I was going to jet out of there and wait until morning. That’s when Angel Phil showed up and said, “What if it looks like this tomorrow morning because there are just as many impatient, lazy asses like yourself who think things will be better? Because then you’ll have to sit in worse traffic and you’ll hate yourself in the darkness of morning gridlock, you clown. Then you’ll get stuck in the morning gridlock of the copy room, you clown.” Angel Phil likes to dole out the tough love. What the hell, I was already there. I filled my tank, then had to wait in a line to get out of the parking lot. I rolled down my window and asked a woman loading her car about the availability of water in the warehouse. “No, they’re all out.” With that, I got on the freeway and drove a breathtaking 60 miles-per-hour until the Mauka cutoff.
One of Lynnette’s responsibilities as a public health nurse is as an on-site care giver during emergencies such as the one potentially brought on the approaching weather. As such, she’s especially equipped to handle situations like this. She packed her go-bag with many key items including my deodorant. But what if I run out? That’s being selfish, Phil. In lieu of enduring the Black Friday-esque madness of seeking out bottled water, my resourceful wife will fill every single water bottle we own with tap water. There are many of these containers in various shapes and sizes. Historians will look back and call them artifacts of the Pre-Hydroflask Age. Good looking out, babe. “We should also start bagging the ice cubes and putting them in the freezer,” I said. “I already started,” she said. Cut to a shot of my dad nodding proudly.
Similarly, it is a time of upheaval at my work place. Our enrollment is at its most robust since I’ve been employed. As such, we have had to make adjustments to teaching schedules as well as teachers’ schedules. As I’ve mentioned, there is a class taking place in my classroom every period of every day and I choose not to be the classroom while the other teacher is working. I like to come and go as I please. I like to listen to music. Also, they’re all math classes, so I think I might break out in hives if I linger. No one likes to be made to feel stupid, after all. I don’t want any students to see Mr. Higa wearing a slack-jawed countenance as they cover something like the quadratic equation. I must preserve my veneer of omniscience.
Since 95% of my notes are located in my head – something akin to Sherlock’s Mind Palace, but nowhere near as elegant – I’m going to have to figure out how to sequester my written notes to one wall and possibly, perhaps, maybe, somehow get some of that done electronically. This is the thing that’s given me the most anxiety. I haven’t touched Power Point since my ill-fated attempt at being a business major in college. The only thing I distinctly remember about Power Point is that you have the ability to make car noises as the text appears on screen. VROOM Characterization. VROOM Imagery.
When I think of this situation, I feel a strong kinship with Ron Burgundy. I think of that conference room meeting where it was revealed that Veronica would begin reading the news with Ron. I think of Ron’s outrage – WHAT IS THIS, AMATEUR HOUR? – it was hilarious because of its hyperbole, but still. To an outsider, it seemed like a simple tweek: you’ll still read the news, but only less because someone else is going to read it with you. But in truth, it’s a single change that affects his ego, the way he does his job, and his world view. Of course he reacts poorly. He was just informed that his world has immediately ceased to exist. I don’t like change, but I will adjust. I would prefer, of course, to do things as I’ve always done them. But as we all know, change is the way of all things. Except for gridlock on H1. That will never change.