Apparently, the Universe is NOT Deaf to All Complaints

I think we can all agree that it's pretty rare to have the kind of shitty day I had on Tuesday followed IMMEDIATELY by the kind of great news I got on Wednesday. Normally, when you - and by "you" I mean most people in a general sense - have a bad day, it's followed by more bad days, or, at best, a mediocre day that has you constantly proclaiming, "Well, at least it's better than yesterday." But it's rare to have the horrible ushered out so completely by the AWESOME.

(No, I'm not bipolar. I swear, I'm really not. I just happened to have a really bad day and then a really good day. Back to back. I'M NOT BIPOLAR.)

Before you get too excited, no, HTG did not suddenly change his mind about his engagement and profess his undying love for me. That would not be "great," or even "AWESOME." That would be SO INDESCRIBABLY FANTASTIC THERE WOULD BE NO WORDS EVEN IN ALL CAPS. No, Wednesday wasn't that kind of day. But here's what did happen on Wednesday that is so fabulous:

They let me out of teaching French.

Here's what I said about teaching French a few posts ago: Well you see, I made the mistake of saying, "I really don't want to teach it, please find someone else to teach it, but if you can't find someone else to teach it, and you're absolutely desperate, then I'll teach it again." And that, right there, was the nail in my coffin - saying I was willing to do it if necessary. Next year I'm saying, "NO WAY, I WILL NEVER EVER TEACH FRENCH EVER AGAIN!" And I will hold a sign while I say it so they see the all caps and know that I'm not joking around.

I think we could all tell - for those who didn't already know - how much I was NOT looking forward to teaching that French class.

And the thing was, the class itself wasn't a huge deal. But because of how much I dreaded it, how much I disliked it, and how badly I wanted to escape it, everything else seemed that much worse. I hadn't even started really planning lessons for the class, but while I planned lessons for my English classes, the French was there, lurking in the back of my mind and stressing me out. Picking music for my ballroom class, the French was there, whispering, "You can't escape me!" The French class was like a creepy ex-boyfriend that just wouldn't go away, no matter how nicely I asked.

I was getting ready to call the cops on his stalking ass.

But then, sweet deliverance! Because of a bunch of other factors that are too complicated to go into here, things worked out for our normal French teacher to teach my French class along with the others she always teaches. The students get a REAL French teacher, instead of me, the English teacher who was slyly posing as a French teacher to preserve job security. I'm not going to even pretend for a second that I'm not thrilled for myself and my own sanity, but in all honesty, I really do think that it's better for the kids to have a different teacher. I wasn't good at teaching French, I wasn't prepared to teach French, and I didn't have any enthusiasm for teaching French. The other teacher, D., is good, is prepared, and has a TON of enthusiasm. The students really are better off for this switch.

But let's be honest - this blog is about me, my life, my emotions, and what's better for ME. And boy howdy! This is so much better for me. After the horrors of Tuesday, I had about five coworkers - Tpiglette included - going to the administration on my behalf saying, "Um, Lara's FREAKING OUT. Like, sniper-on-a-rooftop freaking out. Maybe you should consider doing something to help with that." So when the opportunity presented itself to take the French off my schedule, I imagine the admins jumped at the chance, because seriously? A teacher taking to the roof with an AK-47 is, like, the epitome of a PUBLIC RELATIONS NIGHTMARE.

(Especially because we're a Christian school - Jesus frowns on sniper vigilantes.)

But now, the world is sunshine and roses again, because French and I are broken up for good. Of course, I'm still way behind in my other class planning, and I am still completely alone and pining for the love of a man (an ENGAGED man) who barely registers my existence on the planet, and this damn 30-Day Shred does not have me looking or feeling even remotely different than I did before...

But still - SUNSHINE AND ROSES.

And because it's all sunshine and roses here, I'm in the mood for a little audience participation! So tell me, oh wise reader, which is better: sunshine or roses?

(Hint: there is a correct answer here.)