Orgasmically Transcendent

Arriving home from the American Cancer Society Thrift Shop (a regular
stop across from Trader Joe's -- shopping for charity is shopping I
love) with a lovely little find, a lime green purse, I emptied the
pockets of the stuffing and found a fortune which was originally
found, I presume, in a cookie. It reads: "You will soon witness a
miracle."

I witness miracles everyday I think, so wondered if this would be a
particularly significant or outrageous miracle. Like my phone
ringing. Or like me sitting at my computer to write and actually
working rather than procrastinating. Or maybe, I will wake up and
someone will have finished all my laundry and housecleaning. Best of
all would be the news that we have too many teachers so they are
giving me the semester off, with pay.

That didn't happen. I even showed up to our first day back, ready to
turn around and head home.

What did happen is I made it through my first three days back to work
(sans students, still) and do not feel pissed or stressed or
exhausted (just a slight grogginess due to the ungodly early hour I
had to wake-up). I am only somewhat prepared, but have faith it will
all fall together. I know the first few days will be just waking up
and readjusting to the routines. This is acceptable. I accept (though
am not overjoyed by) the fact that the first month is already filled
with assemblies, shortened days, trainings, and lots and lots of
testing. All my lessons will be squished and squeezed until, like a
nice fluffy slice of wonder bread hardened into a marble sized ball,
it is compact and unrecognizable, though not totally inedible or
tasteless.

Not a bad miracle, though I am also totally open to a more
extravagant, even orgasmically transcendent, one if the universe
feels I am so deserving.