Gah. This has been an ugly, ugly week. All stupid work stuff, so professionalism would forbid talking about it even if it weren’t stone boring, so suffice it to say: bleh.
Today, I have spent at home, at one of my most dreaded activities: going through boxes of Old Stuff. You know the ones (or at least you do if you’re a fellow packrat): old school papers, notes you passed in class to lovers you haven’t seen in a decade, cancelled checks from 1987, disks in formats no drive reads, etc etc etc.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Mrs. Barton’s kindergarden class of Calumet Elementary School, Columbus Ohio, 1977.
Shelly Landis, the first girl I even had a contentious friendship with (sometimes we played well together, sometimes I pulled chairs out from under her when she was trying to sit down):
Nha Lisa Nguyen, the first girl I ever had a crush on:
…aaaaaand, me, age five:
Yes, that grin has been a lifelong affliction.
No clue what happened to Lisa or Shelly: my family left Columbus when I was 8. Mrs. Barton has presumably passed on to her reward; my memories of her are hazily unpleasant. (There were lectures about Jesus and aggrieved visits to the principal by my mom and dad to get her to stop.) Don’t remember anyone else: my only male friend at that age was a grade ahead of me.
I recommend against doing this sort of stuff while listening to Coldplay’s “Clocks.” It can lead to eye malfunctions.