Spring Fever?

Yo, check out my hook — while my DJ revolves it.

The end of the school year is mental and random. Drama splashes around like wet mud. It sticks to everyone, everything. My juniors are watching a documentary about Big Macs. I mowed the lawn after school, brought home some daisies, carbonated water and buttery German cheese from the grocery store. The car dealer called this week to say we could bring the car in for a wash. I got a letter from the U.S. District Court telling me not to bother coming to jury duty next week. Bono turned 51. An end times “prophet” proclaims the world will end May 21. I saw a People Magazine advertising the 1,000 Greatest Pop Culture Moments. And part of me was curious. Seniors worry about who has the best legs. Thirty-some students are honestly going fishing tomorrow. I had a sign outside my classroom door today with a giant zebra on it that read, “Do Not Disturb. ECA Testing in Progress.” Three students and two teachers still walked in. I saw Willie Nelson’s doppelgänger sitting on a bench tonight. It was supposed to rain today, but it didn’t. My wife bought shoes that she didn’t need this morning, but at least she shopped local. A student handed me three necklaces made out of dandelions. Another student is sprouting something, successfully, in a styrofoam cup in the back of my classroom. She waters and cares for it every day. The Republican mayoral candidate wrote a peculiar letter to the editor in the local paper this week. He discussed his suits, underground bunker home, marital status and transitional lenses. No joke. I got an email from friends telling me they were stranded somewhere in northern Europe and needed me to wire them some cash. The email was from a hacker. We took the kids to the park tonight, and Henry fell down and got a bloody lip. Toby read aloud an article to me tonight about how Obama is fixated on the idea of pressing the red button and launching thermonuclear disaster, out of curiosity and a longing for escape. It was in The Onion, though. Someone posted in my wife’s Facebook newsfeed that she put her girl’s dirty diaper in the laundry hamper.

We’re all a little muddy this time of year.

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