Felix's Blog

Or at least I do.

I have papers I haven’t graded. I have lessons I haven’t planned. I have a set of difficult reference questions to answer, a paper to write, and a long list of chores to do that I haven’t done. So what do I do as I settle into the closet office on the fourth floor?

I tip over my department head’s coffee onto her papers.

So. Perhaps my final blog?

I seriously doubt that she’ll murder me and hide the body. At least that’s what I hope.

She’s good at letting people know how she feels and so when she returns to the little closet office to discover coffee stains, coffee scent, and a less-than-full coffee cup thermos contraption (she’s that serious about her coffee), it’s anyone’s guess what she’ll do.

I’m banking on her obvious annoyance and displeasure signaling me to never return to this closet ever again.

People like their coffee.

As far as I can tell, I have several things going against me:

1. It wasn’t my coffee.
2. It didn’t spill on my stuff.
3. I wasn’t bumped by anyone else in the room.
4. I’ve tipped the thermos thing before, only those times, it was empty.

That’s four strikes.

Guess I’m out.

Options:

1. Eliminate the evidence.
2. Flee the country.
3. Discover hidden talents (always the miracle option, though).
4. Devise an elaborate scheme to elicit sympathy by making her spill my coffee on my stuff before she sees the brown splotched papers on her table.

Oh yeah. I’m a dead man.