The Natatorium

An emporium of oddities from around the world, complete with somewhat informative plaques that almost never match the item they are meant to be describing.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

The Ballad of a Monday

This happened a couple of weeks ago, but it's still funny. It is the account of my Evil Sitcom Monday.

I am always late to class. On this particular Monday, I was going to have two tests, so I planned on getting up extra early in order to have time to cram for my first test, at 9:00am. As I'm lying in bed, trying to force my limbs to rise, my cell phone rings. It's my brother, calling from his school, and he needs me to bring him his notebooks, which he left at his friend's house. I groan and mumble, but sisterly duty compels me to acquiesce... until as an afterthought, he adds, "Oh, and the dogs will bark at you but they don't bite."

It is important to note here that *I* *HATE* *DOGS* that I think will bite me (i.e. every single dog in the world that I am not *extremely* familiar with). I complain to him some more, but again, sisterly duty compels me, and I tell him I'll get the damn notebooks.

I rush around, trying to get out of the house so I can acquire and deliver the notebooks and still get to class early enough to cram. Even at this point, I can tell that's not bloody likely. Still, I arrive at his friend's house and go up to the door, which he has told me will be unlocked, even though no one is home. I knock and ring just in case someone is walking around naked. This proves to be a mistake, as of course all house-dogs are conditioned to bark (read: attack) at the sound of a doorbell. I look through the window cooing "nice doggie, good doggie" and try to open the door a crack. A snout *LUNGES* through the crack, canines bared, absolutely desperate to tear my jugular open, and I promptly pull the door shut again. "Okaaay...." I say shakily, "Maybe not such a good idea..."

I pause for a moment, trying to decide if my fear is based in an irrational phobia or actual sense of danger. Normally I would stand there mentally whining about it for quite a while, but I realize that time is running out and I have a test at 9:00. I decide to just do it. I open the door, still with the ineffectual cooing (why didn't I bring a hot dog or something?) and jump inside, slamming the door behind me. The smaller dogs aren't very intimidating, but the biggest one is still growling and baring his teeth at me. I immediately realize this was a mistake. I am a stranger, entering their home while none of their masters are present. I meet all the criteria for an intruder, excepting the fact that I'm not wearing a black cat suit and sneaking around on tiptoe. Still cooing (nice doggie, please don't kill me....) and employing the only "calm the dog" technique I know (let them smell your hand and then pet them on the head! provided they don't bite the hand off first!) I edge my way towards and through the pack of dogs.

Then something interesting happens. As soon as I'm through the entryway, they lose interest. They immediately cease barking and walk away. They completely leave the room. Obviously the "someone's coming in the house!" reaction is even more ingrained than I realized. I quickly grab the notebooks and get the hell out.

I will soon wish that I were still negotiating with wild dogs, as negotiating with High School secretaries proves much more difficult. Upon arrival at the school office, I tell the first woman at a desk that I need to send the notebooks to a student. I give her his name and grade. She looks blankly at me. She takes out a piece of paper. She looks blankly at the paper, then starts to write. Before completely forming two full letters, she looks back up at me and says, actually, give it to Mrs. ____. I turn around to Mrs. ____ and repeat my request. It seems to register with her. I consider the notebooks in good hands and proceed to class.

I am late to class. The exam has already started and I have not studied at all. The exam destroys me.

In my next class I am a bit more confident, until my professor starts handing out the tests. It's a BLUE BOOK. I'd never had a college Blue Book exam. The exam destroys me.

There were various other mishaps and inconveniences throughout the day, but the cherry on top of my glorious ice-cream Monday came when I got home that night, and my brother asked me, "So, did you bring those notebooks up to the school? 'Cuz I never got them...."

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