It's a good thing I was a gymnast in another life. . .

I got to school today a little later than normal, mainly because after about six hours of meetings the day before I felt I deserved to sleep in at least an hour. When I walked across the grass toward my Port-ah-bluh, I saw caution tape surrounding the ramp leading to my door and a man standing guard outside it.

Me: "Hi - uh. . . can I get in?"

Man: "Nope. Not until Monday."
Me: . . . "ok. . . "

Man: "Sorry."

So I shuffled into the main part of the school, where I hid out for about five minutes before returning. The man was gone. Limber beast that I am, I heaved myself up and over the ramp and went in to get work done. It all felt so illegal and irresponsible. I kind of wanted there to be someone to yell at me and run after me to try and stop me all while I locked myself in the classroom while they contemplated the cement outside the door, trying to figure out how to get in to reprimand me but not bypass the caution tape. In my mind, this person also looks a lot like Dwight in his volunteer Sheriff's Deputy uniform.

I repeated this process approximately three times, once, I might add, in front of a mother and her son who may be in one of my classes judging by the pointing they were doing in my direction.

Or maybe they were just pointing at me.

Let it never be said that I am afraid to make an idiot of myself in front of the school.