I got really mad about something at school today. Oh, not OUT LOUD mad. Bah! Never! This is me we're talking about. My first reaction is always: Stifle, Stifle! Just quiet, me-mad, which means all up in my insides and not much happening on the outside 'cept judgy-looking eyes. (Then again, I've been told "judgy" is my default look. Sigh. I hate that. But whaddya gonna do?) Anyway, I was stewing, pouting, and just generally acting like a turd about it in my own head. I got mad then I took a drive to the bank. Because I had to. And on the way to the bank I was ruminating on my own rage. I turned the radio off so I could concentrate on how pissed off I was. That's dedication. I mean, I was really rolling around in that stinking pile of frustration. I was wrapping myself up in it and making a pointy hat out of woe. And then I had this lovely moment of clarity. I only got two hours of sleep last night. Like, I had been awake for more hours than a normal human body was supposed to, at that point. I didn't sleep and then I did my crazy job where I try to get fourteen year olds to pay attention, which is frankly, not something most people would try on a good day. I was at that shaky, delirious threshold where they tell air traffic controllers to please just go home before they hurt someone. And that was on the heels of being, as Miranda Priestly puts it in The Devil Wears Prada, "an incubus of viral plague." I did not sleep.I've been sick all week. It's only the second full week of school.