So much for that early morning work time. When you awaken every two hours all night somehow you’re not much inspired to haul your ass out of bed any sooner than you absolutely have to.
This sleeping schedule also does wonders for your short term memory and other related human skills, like talking, and buttoning.
As I was lecturing this morning, babbling on about the American Revolution, I noticed that all 6 of the huge football players that sit in the front row of my class kept staring at my breasts. As I talked I got angrier and angrier –what the fuck? How dare they so openly objectify me in this way? (And not listen to the lecture…) Haven’t they ever seen battened-down tits in a well-engineered bra underneath a button-down shirt before? And, I mean, really, shouldn’t 19 year-olds be patently uninterested in 37 year old tits anyway? I got a little flustered as I was talking, but did my level best to keep plowing through anyway. I have to say it was not my finest hour. The lecture was dull, and I stumbled a lot throughout the rest of it because it just broke my rhythm to be fuming about these football players and their nasty leering while trying to concentrate on the ever so entrancing historiography of the Revolution.
At the end of the lecture, I packed up my stuff, unplugged the computer, and was erasing the chalkboard when I looked down and noticed that my shirt was unbuttoned. Yep. I missed a button. Right there in the middle. So, these poor football players weren’t necessarily leering so much as shrinking in horror and cringing in embarrassment as they caught brief glimpses of, thank god, that very well engineered bra.
Hopefully on the way home I won’t leave my trunk open or drive away with my bag on top of the car or depart in some other state of disassembly since clearly basic buttoning 101 seemed to be quite beyond my capacity today.
Given my luck, and the way things are going, I’ll probably just kill yet another innocent critter instead. Maybe this time it will be the flying monkey! (hey, a girl can dream…)