dajamou

Where's the village?

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

And I probably had pizza sauce on my shirt.

I have all the social graces of an absent-minded professor, but none of the endearing quirks or dizzying intellect. I'm just the absent-minded moron.

Last week we had the last day of school at the dajamou's preschool. In the evening there was a picnic for all the families at the school, and since it started only 2 hours after dajamou's class finished, I volunteered to stick around and help with setting up. Which was fine, except I kept feeling like everyone was working harder than they would have otherwise, because they had to find things for me to do. But it was probably just me.

After people started arriving for the picnic, the potluck dishes were being set up in one of the classrooms. The dajamou, naturally, wanted to try all the desserts, but I, naturally, told her she had to have some green light foods first. So she, again naturally, asked if she could start in on said green light foods right now. Why not, I thought. There's food, it's after the start time for the picnic, let's get the girl some food. So I loaded up a plate with some good stuff, we went to eat, I went back, noticed the pizza, got a couple slices. Then the dajamou asked for her treat and I said, "Sure. Go get whatever you want." So she went to the room, only to come back empty-handed and tell me that a lady said the food wasn't ready and it wasn't time to start. WTF? Nobody told me anything about waiting. So I spent the rest of the evening wondering if people had been giving me dirty looks for cheating and getting food ahead of time. But it was probably just me.

At the end of the picnic, the mom of one of dajamou's classmates, a very sweet woman that I wish I had tried to know better, came over to say goodbye to me. It occurred to me all of a sudden that I would probably never see her again, as she was moving to a different part of town and not likely to bring her daughter all the way to this school. So I wanted to give her a hug or something, but I didn't feel like I knew her well enough. And, of course, it didn't occur to me to offer to trade email addresses or phone numbers until after she was gone. So I was left wondering if she thought I was some kind of antisocial bitch. But it was probably just me.

The real kicker is, that night I had no less than three dreams in which I was constantly doing the wrong thing, or the right thing at the wrong time, or somehow out of sync with everyone else in the dreams. That? That was definitely just me.

I really want to put this all down to PMS, or forgetting my meds for a day, or something. Armchair psychology, anyone?

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