Both of them are jobs in which you have to be on your feet, paying attention to the world around you, thinking clearly, talking coherently, and being nice to people, regardless of how shitty you happen to feel that day. At least in an office I could sit down. And sometimes no one would talk to me for hours on end.
Barring unexpected turns for the worse this afternoon, we can say that I have survived the semester without having to pass out, throw up, or call in sick on days when I’m supposed to be teaching. Barely. And if the universe has any justice in it, by next semester I have put a stop to this shit.
This post is brought to you by the female reproductive system*, solid evidence for malevolent design if ever there was one. Let us take a moment to thank the Oh-Gods who preside over painkillers and anti-nausea drugs.
*Ed: no, I’m not pregnant. Very very not pregnant. Thus the regular monthly rounds of pain and nausea.