F*ck Bubbles

Bubbles are coming. Friday will be Bubble Day. Each good choice-making kid will get a bottle of bubbles to blow during lunch. I spent a couple of hours today taking the plastic coverings off the bottles of bubbles...900 bottles of bubbles. I'm starting to hate bubbles. Lupe and a student aide helped. I'm so thankful to them. I cut two of my fingers trying to remove the stupid plastic things. The second time I cut my finger, I said something I shouldn't have said. I said it a bit too loud. There was a kid sitting in the hallway taking a make-up CST test. She heard me. I said "FUCK!" After I said it, I realized there was a kid in the hallway. I wanted to say "FUCK!" again, but I didn't. Please know that this is so unlike me, to use foul language at school or really anywhere. I peeked my head out the door and looked at her. She looked back at me and smiled. I said nothing. She said nothing. Our looks to each other spoke volumes. My look was one of pure horror. Her look said "I have something on you. Mess with me and I'm going to tell everyone what you said." I saw her again at lunch. She gave me the "look" again. I just smiled at her. I don't think she told anyone. I think she's saving it for just the right moment. I'm going to be blackmailed by a fifth grader! In a way, I'm really curious when she'll use her little tidbit of information. I'll let you know. Did I say I hate bubbles?