Victoria's Secret could USE this...

So I decided (Yes, Amy, I know this is not a proper sentence) to take on the idea of dropping one of my classes. It doesn't pay very well, and it has never felt "right." There's always a hint of hesitation for me before I go in and this tired feeling across my eyes that I have to fight off. This does not happen regularly when I teach. Or I wouldn't teach. I mean, today, I may be operating on half a cylinder, (does this make sense?) as this is the second day in a row with 4-5 hours sleep, BUT...generally, I am thrilled and interested.

I talked to the person in charge about cutting the class short a half hour. This way, it would just be an hour. This would make it easier, I thought. Anyone can make an hour fly by. Then, I thought about it, and I explained to her that I didn't want to do this because then I would have even LESS income coming in. Notice it was not with the idea that something else would fit in its place and suit me better. LESS was on my mind and the throat lump reared its nasty head.

I wiffled and waffled until I got off the phone. Of course, I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling. The nag is actually my inner voice, who talks to me. (I do regularly talk to myself OUT LOUD. Thank heaven for the invention of cell phones, which makes it appear as if I have one of those bluetooth thingeys in my ear.)

So the Voice begins to start: Drop the class. Maybe you should drop the class. You have been thinking about this for a while.

I play with the idea and the unpleasant lump is revving up in my throat. The fear is there. And the voice is saying: What will you get then? What if you don't fill it with something else? What if you have nothing? What if what if...So I ask, "Should I drop the class?" I give It the choices: YES or NO.

First I do my usual way of determining things when I am confused and cannot bother friends any more because my quota is up. I ask the question I want answered, then pick anything near by with writing on it, and point my finger to a spot that draws me. Then I look for the clue. Like if it said, "then," I would assume this means "yes," because it sounds like it if you move the "t" and make it a "y." Or if it said "disaster," I would assume no. There's sort of makeshift rules that I make up to find my answer. And before you accuse me of being "California," I am not from here. I come from the Midwest. So there.

I tried asking and pointing in my notebook. But the link was too obscure even for me. I didn't know the answer. Then I tried same thing, pointing in a favorite book. Did this a few times. Nada. Couldn't make any sense to what I saw. No answer still, to my question.

But I knew I needed to make a decision. So I decided to dao. Now I may have spelled it wrong. But I will tell you what it is. You dangle some sort of pendulum and can ask it "yes/no" questions. Perhaps some of you are very clever and can get it to speak, but I haven't figured that out yet. Holding the pendulum by your two fingers, you let it swing. "Yes" is determined as being one way--say vertically forward and back, and "No" is determined as being the other way--say horizontally to the right and left. To determine which is which, you ask it obvious questions. Mine today were (b/c I was feeling very fragile) "am I a girl," and "am I a boy." This much, I knew I could figure out.

Once you have your directions for "yes," and "no," set, then you are ready to go.

The problem was that I couldn't find anything to work. First I tried a pen. Nope. Didn't swing. I tried to dangle it as much as possible, but it did not dangle. Then I tried a spoon. No dangle. I even tried the cord that is on the phone charger but this just stood there sullenly, and made less effort than both the spoon and pen combined.

I really needed to know. What to do about the confounded class. The lump in my throat was making me. So I ran upstairs, scanned the room wildly, and grabbed the first thing I could think of. My bra. This is not a little sports bra. I am talking about what would more suitably be called a "brassiere." The type of bra my mother or someone's mother would wear. Or someone like me who can fill it. This is not the type of bra that girls who wear those stylish, little sports ones would ever have to stoop to wearing. It's for the big girls.

The thing about this bra is that usually--actually, all the time, it sits unused. It is supportive for me, holds everything in, and does not allow bounce. It fits perfectly. But it is uncomfortable. Instead I wear what women are not supposed to wear regularly, because it is truly unflattering. But it is more comfortable and I start feeling as though I am going to have a panic attack with the other. Or that I can't breathe.

So I was thrilled to finally find a use for it. Those puppies are expensive.

I got ready to ask my question, and filed a disclaimer with the throat. NO backlash. I warned aforementioned bulge that it needed to go immediately to a nice rest home, far away from me if we were going to do this. Now for the defining moment:

I dangled. It came. I saw.

I called my employer and told her, "Drop the class." Being compulsive, I also emailed her the same message.

One less hour and a half of work. Just before my throat could think about slinking back from glossier pastures, I checked my email. A new one from someone. More work! And better pay!

And now, the title makes sense. I wasn't trying to be clever. Well -- maybe just a little.