Beware the Eyes of February

Damian just told me that he will not invite me to his second wedding. Guess who's watching InStyle Celebrity Weddings? That hurts, D. You'll totally be invited to my second wedding. But you have to sit on the groom's side.

So, man. I've been working in a school less than a month and I already have pinkeye. Bitches. It's exchanges like this that make my itchy weepy eye worth it:

Setting: the library, after school
Cast: the librarian, a female student

Student: Are you the new one?
Librarian: I am. I am the new one.
Student: I think you're pretty.
Librarian: (flustered noises)
Student: So, I checked out this book and I can't find it.
Librarian: Did you just try to suck up to me so you wouldn't have to pay your fines?!?

Aaaaaaaaand, scene.

Yeah. Pinkeye. I think. I have a doctor's appointment for Wednesday, but it sure feels like pinkeye. Of course, Wednesday is the first of February, so it will probably turn out that I have some eyeball devouring virus that will permanently blind me but could have been cured if only the doctor could have squeezed me in on January 31.

Enjoy your last day of relative safety, although I can make no promises about January 31, since it butts up to the bad month, and there may be cross contamination. Best of luck.

And, um, sorry for the bad Caesar pun.