It's the Little Things That Drive Me Crazy.......

Because sometimes I post about the little things that make me happy, tonight I'm blogging about the little things that drive me crazy. Things that don't even concern me. Don't affect my life in any way. Shouldn't bother me. But do.

There's this guy at school, and he's just not one of my favorite people. He's the one I mentioned last year that just may have been having someone else do his work for him. Work toward a MASTERS degree in education. Oh, the irony.

I believe I've mentioned about a gazillion times here that we've moved into a new building this year. The building formerly housed a pre-kindergarten program, and before that it was an elementary school. They've done a good job renovating a building where HUBBY WENT TO SCHOOL. Yeah, it's old.

Some of the signs are still there from the previous school, most notably the handicapped parking signs, the sign designating the principal's parking spot, and the spot reserved for the Teacher of the Year.

This jerk guy gets to school earlier than some, and he insists in parking in that spot. The Teacher of the Year spot. And he's not. Teacher of the Year, that is. Isn't that nervy? Tacky? Rude?

Some might argue that he thinks since the sign is left over from a former school, it doesn't apply to us. But we do HAVE a Teacher of the Year, and she deserves her own parking space. I've noticed he doesn't park in the space labeled for the principal, so why the TOTY?

Never mind. I think I know.

He also has a potty mouth, and while I'm definitely not a prude and have been known to let a mild profanity escape my lips from time to time, I try to be professional at school and not use those words unnecessarily. I can't swear I didn't say something profanity-laced the time the pull-down screen fell on my head (on Friday the 13th, no less), but I generally think there's a time and place for those words. His regular conversation is laced with the F-word, as are his emails. I've heard tell he uses that language in front of his students, but I can't verify that. I called him on his language one time last year at the end of the year, and he said, "What? There are no kids here."

I said, "I'M HERE." It didn't appear to faze him.

I'm tempted to let the air out of his tires the next time he parks in the TOTY spot. I think only someone who has earned the distinction has the right to park there. And until he is TOTY, he should park his car somewhere else. And when he's TOTY, I hope I am RIP.