I’d planned to do it. I really had. Every evening, I’d promised myself to sit down and do it. But something always distracted me
“Mrs. Bloomberg?”
Arrgh. I was hoping to sneak into the school office without anyone noticing me. All I need is a box of staples from the supply closet. But the secretary, Mrs. Gold, spies me.
I need to get hold of an invisibility cloak so I can avoid all the people I promised I’d get back to and never did. Like my neighbor who asked me to RSVP to her son’s bar mitzvah three times already. And like Mrs. Gold, who’s waiting for me to return an evaluation.
Mrs. Gold is standing next to the photocopier, and I watch as the machine spits out sheet after sheet of paper. “The Brodsky girl’s evaluation forms?” Mrs. Gold says gently.
I’d planned to do it. I really had. Every evening, I’d promised myself to sit down and do it. But something always distracted me: the baby woke up, my husband came home, the washing machine finished.
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