But sure enough, when it was sure to jeopardize the most, that’s when I pulled a serious blooper. While I can’t say this isn’t somewhat typical Korie style, it’s been quite a while since I pulled a royal boner and I had hoped that maybe my streak was broken. Of course, that’s perfect timing for a long overdue master fuckup of the decade (not the century, mind you, cause I may still have some reprieve here, but a massive mistake nonetheless). I was perusing the FBI website one last time before going to get my fingerprints tomorrow for my personal record (lack thereof) check for my student visa. That’s when I noticed a single sentence that I have managed to miss for the past 3 months: takes 16-18 weeks for processing. Uh-oh. My flight is scheduled for December 25th. That gives me 11 weeks from today until I need to apply for the visa. I’m getting fingerprinted tomorrow and can have the request to the FBI in the mail on Monday. I also plan on calling the CDJIS, or whatever the heck the department name is and begging any human I can get a hold of to put a rush on things. That’s about the best I can do, but I’ll have to try.

When I discussed this issue this evening with CB I got pretty flustered and borderline hysterical (he called it a tantrum…nothing like being compared to the preschoolers I teach every day but I’ll take it on the chin, after all, I am entirely to blame for this and he had a lot more right to start screaming than I did, but unlike me, he was entirely rational and controlled). This was right before I had to leave to go babysit some of my favorite kids (the elder of the two is in my class and let’s call him Gruff. He has a little sister who started walking last month and is saying a few words. We’ll call her Bravo) and I was basically mid-freakout when I looked at the clock and realized I had to get in the car and drive into Squirrel Hill to babysit. So I said I had to go, hung up, and flew out the door.

And I was so incredibly angry with myself. Like, wanting to tear off my own skin, so full of self loathing that it made me nauseous, my retinas began to hemorrhage and I went temporarily blind from the hate I felt for my own carelessness. I had to pull the car over for a few minutes to stop myself from flying down a small residential shortcut at 70 mph. I found an old NTB receipt and started writing about how I felt, and it kept me from pursuing other, more destructive compulsions, but if I put it in this blog I don’t think I would get a thumbs up from my physician in the mental health category for my visa physical. You all get the watered down version that is being filtered through three hours of caring for adorable blond haired, green eyed children. And really, that’s what brought me back from the brink of an imminent fugue; walking in the door and having Bravo wave at me with her little hand and run at me to say hello. I was even relieved when the kids’ mom asked me first thing to change Bravo’s diaper (which was poopy, even more distraction). Then I had to coerce Gruff to eat his supper of pasta and sauteed shrimp (I truly, truly enjoy this family, just for being them, but I can’t complain about getting awesome dinners as a perk) before his jam sandwich. Then I had to scrape a two inch thick layer of pasta sauce from Bravo’s entire face before taking the kids to the park down the street to play for a half hour. By the time we were on our way back, my anger had pretty much petered out and the kids were getting sleepy. Bravo went to sleep pretty quickly. Gruff also finally turned in after several stories and requests to go pee. So now, I’m sitting, waiting for the parents to come home, and thankful for being able to turn things around and make everythingI was feeling before a little bit easier to cope with.