1) On my way to the library yesterday, I ran into a former co-worker. I never really worked with the guy, but all of the new people ostensibly socialized during professional development or in line for the copier. Former Co-worker told me there were eleven new teachers, but said that school got off to a smoother start than last year: "We only had to wait three days for our schedules!" Wait. Just wait. Former Co-worker wasn't optimistic that the calm would last.

I also got a phone call from another former co-worker, but the message was indecipherable. I think of this co-worker, who wanted out of the job but stayed, sometimes. I more often think of the kids at I.S. 666, particularly the ones who are now in high school. I worry that they aren't prepared, and won't complete school. I worry that many of them have been pushed into corridors even more treacherous, another school just as bad or worse.

2) On a lighter note, I picked up my reserved books at the library. Three Bailey White books were in the group. White's a Southern spinster-type frequently featured on NPR. She writes about her eccentric mother and life in the South. I'm currently reading Mama Makes Up Her Mind, and it's delightful. I highly recommend it.

3) I had a pass to a movie screening last night, but got to the theater a bit too late. There were more passes than seats, I'm afraid. Damn VIPs and their special treatment! Along with numerous other liners-up, I'll be getting free passes for the screening sometime in the future. I'm hoping it's not in January, when the movie will be out for the rest of the world. The allure of the movie screening for me is that the rest of you suckas can't see it yet. In fact, I think the movie is probably cheesy, but I'd like to say it's cheesy before you get to.

4)After the screening was a bust, Cade and I walked to a diner near the theater. We talked about the work day and such. Somehow the topic of my apartment hunt last May and June came up, and Cade got excited. Again. He seems to think that something that happened to me while I was apartment hunting was so inventive and clever that he swears he will do it if we ever break up. I don't necessarily think the guy with the apartment share was trying to pick me up, but what do you think?

The story: Before I ever considered the goal of my own apartment achievable, I concentrated on an apartment share search. I wanted one or two cool roommates who wouldn't mind that I breathe while in the privacy of my bedroom. The search wasn't going well. There are so many weird people in New York. One woman actually said, "You have a boyfriend, ohhh... No one here ever has boyfriends." I wanted to say, "Well, that's sad. Maybe if I live here, it'll catch." I don't think she would have liked that.

The point is, I was forced to change my search. I started looking at apartment shares with guys, despite my parents' concerns. I tend to get along with my y-chromosomed friends better anyway, and beggars can't be choosy (or is it choosers?). One night, I had schlepped all over Manhattan with no luck. Apartments weren't what they were described as on Craigslist. The renters were spooky. The apartments had just been rented. On top of it all, this was during the time I had that horrible throat inflammation/infection and stomach problem.

I got to the last apartment on my list for the day. It was a two bedroom near Columbia. The primary renter was a guy in graduate school. We'd spoken briefly about how his current roommate was moving out of the city.

As I was looking for the guy's apartment number on the buzzer panel, my phone rang. I answered it. "Hey, Amanda. Where are you?" I replied, "I'm at your building. What's your apartment number again? 4D?" He answered with a start, "You're already here? Oh. I wanted to tell you my roommate just told me he decided not to move out after all. I wanted to tell you before you came over."

I sighed. It had been a long, tiring day. Pause. "But, hey! I feel terrible. Come up and I'll get you a beer or something. It's the least I can do."

I think the guy was just being nice. Maybe he's Southern or something. Cade thinks he's a brilliant manipulator with a knowledge of the tight rental market and a desire to meet some almost-homeless hotties. I didn't go up, as I had better things to do. Actually, I think that was the night I went to the emergency room.

"If we break up, I'm doing the same thing," Cade told me last night. He lives in the eighties and is surrounded by tons of bars, so it's perfect...just in case the apartment thing seems a little too creepy.