It's Like Preparing for Battle

I have Sunday Dread these days.

You know, Sunday Dread. When you go to sleep on Sunday nights totally dreading that tomorrow is Monday.

I haven't had it in years, but it's returned to me in full force as a student teacher.

I had such a rejuvenating weekend and felt so bolstered for the week but still woke up wondering how I'd make it through another Monday, especially since today was my first day teaching all three classes on my own. (Aside from the time I took over when my mentor teacher was sick.)

My train ride is only about 20 minutes, and I listened to pretty music the whole way, trying to ease my stress and assuring myself that it's only three 50-minute periods. Totally doable.

When I exited the train, it was like a switch went off.

Suddenly, I was ready for anything and knew I'd get through the day. I DARED those kids to mess with me.

Seventeen teaching days left.

The countdown has officially begun.

Drugs are Bad; Spring Cleaning is Good

I watch a lot of TV on my computer, but Hulu is often unsatisfactory. Either I'm all caught up on my weekly viewing or I don't have the energy or time to start watching and, subsequently, obsessively committing to a new show...

So when Catt was here a couple weeks ago, we happened upon aetv.com, where there are full episodes of both Hoarders and Intervention.

These are two of the craziest, most infuriating, intense shows on TV.

While watching, I experience very satisfying Schadenfreude as well as sadness and sympathy and serious pity for the people and families struggling with either crippling compulsive hoarding (seriously, the most horrible episode I've seen involved an older woman who had over a hundred cats in her house, some of whom had died and whose bodies were rotting, unbeknownst to her) or horrific addiction/self-destructive behavior (again, the most intense episode I've seen involved a cutter and was very graphic and very gratifying...when she got healthy and stayed away from her unsupportive parents).

The families that are depicted are fractured and struggling and hoping to save their mentally ill and/or addicted relatives.

I cry every episode. Or scream at the television. Or thank my lucky stars I only have so much stuff and space to put it in.

It's a pretty--pardon the pun--addictive show.

But mostly, it's helping me be able to identify junkies on the train.

This morning, this guy was in the subway car with me. Suddenly standing up, nearly toppling over, sitting down again, barely keeping his eyes open, falling over in his seat and jerking awake, strangely sipping Gatorade from one bottle and spitting it into another Gatorade bottle.

And, I thought...he's high on heroin.

Thanks, A&E.