My Cardboard Balcony

This week. Oh, good  Lord,  this week. I just...where do I even start? Do I even  want  to start? Beginning with a record-breaking tragedy in Las Vegas (and not a good record to break, either), my week ultimately culminated in a string of dramatic moments and altercations at my job, leaving me no choice but to make incredibly tough decisions regarding some of my students. Said decisions will ultimately cause an inevitable administrative mess, so that does  miracles  for my anxiety. Speaking of which, don't watch the "White Bear" episode of  Black Mirror  if your anxiety's already on the fritz. Seriously. That story was  fucked up. But at least there's a light at the end of this very, very dark tunnel. I got to see my wife play Hippolyta and a velociraptor-fairy (you had to be there) in  A Midsummer Night's Dream,  so that was fun. Tomorrow, I'ma get my hairs cut in my hometown and see my family. And Sunday is - you might have already guessed it -

The Week From Hell by Belinda Roddie Satan got seven days of fun. He drank Moscato, too.

She was a juvenile delinquent, a criminal at sixteen. She was a fraudster, an embezzler, and a con artist all at the age of sixteen. She had managed to steal fifteen million dollars from American citizens, through tricks and schemes - all at the young, adolescent age of sixteen. And she was to be tried as an adult. Was it worth it? It had been one of the best weeks of her life.