by Sherard Harrington
Classes begin today. And I am nervous.
Not because of typical classroom jitters—that feeling of meeting all of these new people who could make the next several months awesome or awkward, depending—but because of how late Massachusetts is on delivering financial aid. Like, a month and half into the semester. And I’ve budgeted for this after experiencing the fall semester, but I’m going to be cutting it close, and I don’t like close cuts.
So last night I did some snow removal at a local school & church, which really helped patch some financial gaps. And then I went and deposited the check this morning, and on my way home this old man had paused to put on his gloves near the subway. And what hair he had left was white, and he had rested his cane against one of those newspaper dispensers, and seeing me coming, he says, “Good morning, sir.”
He sirred me. He SIRRED me! The man’s practically 80, and I haven’t even hit 25 yet (although the thought of reaching that milestone this year sent me reeling last night), so I responded with, “No, YOU good morning sir!”
Because I guess that’s the kind of thing I say when I cut coffee out of the budget.
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