After the workshop, we’d light some more rockets and sing something like “We Shall Overcome” to pump up any sagging morale. Then, throwing the last of the cookies in their direction, I’d brush up on my Keurig skills and brew myself a cup of recovery.
I wish that “Toweling Techniques” and “How to Slip Into Bed Without Aggravating the Tarnation Out of Your Spouse” were the only workshops we need here, but that would be a lie. We could use “How to Hit the Hamper with the Towels I Showed You How to Use” and “You Spilled It, You Wipe It.” It wouldn’t hurt, either, to have a refresher course on “How to Wield a Toilet Brush,” a class I’d taught before a Grandma visit once.
Looks like I (and my arms) will be awfully busy this spring with all that instructing. I wonder if there’ll be a paycheck for this. I wonder where instructors go to retire.