My semester's gotten off to a rough start. Teaching two different classes on two different campuses on different days has extended the first day's madness to first two days' madness.
I'm also starting to wonder if three is an unlucky number for me, which is a bit saddening. It could be a bit of identification, but I've always been partial to odd numbers. Until this week, I quite liked three.
The first three-related mishap pertained to my syllabi. I had campus #1's syllabi copied off and was beginning to staple them when I realized I had run off too many copies; no sweat, thought I. I shall put the extras in a separate stack. I was proud of myself, even, for having caught and corrected my mistakes.
Until I realized that on my way out in the morning, I had grabbed one class's syllabi... and the stack of unstapled extras. That one took a bit of last-minute sense-talking and reassuring from my mentor to correct the problem, but I got over it and had a more or less decent day after that.
My second three-related woe follows a parallel track. The item in question this time was a set of keys. On Monday, I picked up my keys from campus #2; at the time, I was borrowing my mother's car while mine was in the shop. Once I had my car back, I left her the keys on her dresser. It was one of three sets of keys that were in my purse--my car and home keys, my office keys, and the borrowed car keys.
Yes, by this time you probably guessed it--I left my mom the office keys and still had her car key. Luckily, I was able to throw myself upon the mercy of both the department secretary and my officemate to get around the inconvenience, but I sure felt dumb. The car keys, also, were a spare set and so caused no inconvenience there.
I swear, I am developing all the scatter-brained professorial tendencies and none of the accompanying wisdom and stature.
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