It's Been A While

You can tell that dreaded time of the year has started: last month of the semester.

I hate this time of year.

You don't even want to know how many papers I have to grade. I've given up on counting. If they actually handed me in physical papers (instead of electronically) I would have a stack about three feet high. Hell, I was even at work over the spring break grading. One of these years I will actually listen to myself and give them less writing assignments. Ya right. LOL.

On top of this, I have somehow managed to re-injure my foot and ankle. No, I don't know how. It is highly possible that I twisted it somehow in my sleep. Figures, eh? So, I'm back in the boot/walking cast for two weeks. If it is not better by then, I'm getting another MRI. The doc mentioned I may have re-torn my tendon. Joy. :(

Even worse...yes, it does get worse...my mom was recently diagnosed with cancer. It is a melanoma on her eyelid so hopefully it isn't too bad. She'll be seeing a specialist in Miami in two weeks. They'll probably test her then and do a biopsy to see if it's malignant or not. At the very least, they'll set her up to have the cancer removed.

On a lighter note, I got this e-mail from a student this morning explaining his really good reason why his papers are late (and yes those are his spelling mistakes):

Besides my life taking a totally retarded turn with my gf's mother (who i used to live with up until about to weeks ago) turned into a sikso out of the fucken blue...bugged out and told my family all of these lies that i was not saying. Also went around trying to get me locked in a mental hospital, and tryed to get my mom on board claimed i had told her that i the only true god was satan...just to put a grasp of how weird this situation is, i was held hostage by my gf's mother in a room for about an hour the week before. my gf and i were forced to call the cops on this bitch, because she honestly wouldnt let us leave. She kicked us out. im now living at home where my parents think i worship the devil and i am in a satanic colt...

Why oh why do they feel the need to share this information with me? Honestly, I believe this is true because...well...you have to know the kid. He pulled down his shirt in class to show me a tattoo on his boob. But why do they have to tell me this stuff? Just a "I'm having some personal issues" would have been fine. But noooo....

I don't drink but the thought of some alcohol is looking very good right about now.