I’m not sure if it was a dead animal or just cheese grits.

They’ve got something with doors, around here.

It’s the oddest thing: no double doors are both unlocked, at the same time. Only one side is. Ever.  And you never know which side because it’s never the same side.

This causes no end of embarrassment, as you can imagine. Especially for me, a new faculty member. Call me crazy but it really is a blow to your credibility when you can’t even open a door properly.

It’s happened to me twice already today.

This morning as I went to deliver the receipts from my conference trip, I turned back to tell the secretary, “Have a good day!”, and then immediately ran into the door – full face, glasses fell to the floor, skin imprint left greasily along the glass pane, the Works. It seems that today’s choice was the Right Side. Last week, the Left Side had been unlocked – the whole week long.

But not so, today.

Then, leaving the cafeteria, with my Guest Speaker, I, politely, tried to open the door for them, first, and nearly broke my wrist as it unyieldingly remained locked. (As we left, we encountered a confrontation between a student and a security guard. The student was being reprimanded for his use of foul language. Ah, good, old Mississippi community colleges…or, maybe just this one).

I touched no more doors after this, though. I couldn’t take any more humiliation.

Instead, I just stood around and waited for someone else to come through. That way there would be no mystery, and consequently, no accident.

This is, wouldn’t you agree, a rather unnecessarily frustrating experience; I mean, if you see a door, or doors, you naturally assume that either will open for you. When one doesn’t and you ram your forehead into it, it’s demoralizing.

And really, one time doing that is enough. Every time I approach a door, I shouldn’t have to wonder Who’ll Win? Never once should it cross my mind, OK, Kris, here comes a door. Take a deep breath and realize that you may fail. You may not be able to figure this out, but we’ll get through it.

I wonder who’s idea it was to instill a policy founded on the principles of the Guessing Game. I mean, are we so lazy we can’t afford the effort to unlock all doors constructed for public use? Just in case…? Or at the least, unlock the same side, each time?

Leaving an outline of my oily skin on the front doors to the Administration Building wasn’t my choice, and it certainly wasn’t the fitting reception I had hoped to receive, having been gone for the past few days.  But, it’s what I got.

Oh, and get this, even worse, I think only the janitor (God love her heart to death and all the way up Jacob’s Ladder) was aware that I’d been gone at all.

Sigh.

I really am at an impasse: loving what I do but not where I do it. Not even a little bit.

And I’d been so inspired, too, at this conference, despite the fact that the bathrooms, which were located on the basement floor, had what was quite possibly the most offensive odor I’ve ever had the great, massive misfortune to inhale.

I’m not sure if it was a dead animal or just cheese grits, but it was something that I hope to never smell again. (I discovered a can of Lysol, under the cabinet, and I made sure to use the entire can in that bathroom because I was going to be at this conference for two days; one of us had to go, me or that smell. Let me assure you: there was not enough Lysol, and, in fact, I am the one who left).

But, aside from that, I fell in love with Hattiesburg, again. Like, an ounce of me did, at least. It’s gotten so big and fat.  And busy. I like that in a city.

Now, I’m back in my office, depressing myself. Literally and figuratively:

I’m having a mood swing (and the chains are loose, so watch out).

I’m also trying very hard to press my body into the smallest possible shape against the hard edge of faux wood that is my actual desktop.

Maybe no one will see me, I think.

I mean, it’s a wide impasse. I meant to tell you that, a moment ago, did I tell you that? I’m afraid I really don’t want to be here, but I have no one to blame except the Economy.

Also, the blood is cutting off in my hands because I’m leaning so hard against the desk, typing. And even though sometimes that’s a wonderful feeling, in truth, it isn’t really a wonderful feeling at all. Though I do wish I could make the rest of me go to sleep that fast.

Anyway, long story short(er): I’m happy to be back. Blogging, I mean.

And not to upset the delicate balance between what this would read like if I’d let Amanda edit it, and what it’s about to look like underneath my random typing fingers, I’d like to close with a few things I overheard yesterday while searching for clean underwear at the Turtle Creek Mall.

• I hate that. I have never liked pink. Never!
• He wasn’t gay yesterday.
• I can’t for the life of me find the Chuck E. Cheese’s.
• It’s not for me, man, it’s for my mom.
• That’s the stupidest place to put a Foot Locker.
• The people at Buckle still scare me. Do they you.
• Are you crazy? She’s too small! The ropes will kill her.
• He said the Chuck E. Cheese’s was down at the other end, by Dillard’s.
• I took her to IHOP because I don’t like her.
• I don’t know, I just think, that’s, like, one chain too many.
• What’s a Dippin Dot, Mama? I want a Dippin’ Dot, Mama. Can I have a Dippin Dot? Mama? Mama! Can I have a Dippin Dot?

And the piece de resistance:

• Well, I guess you heard him wrong, then. The lady at Kirkland’s said the Chuck E. Cheese’s is in front of Sears.
  

  This is a mullet. I fail to see the inspiration.

I passed by this particular Chuck E. Cheese family three times. The Mother had a mullet, and so did the Father; the Grandmother was a Pentecostal, and the three tow-headed children, one of which was asleep in a stroller, were sharing what appeared to be parts of the same outfit (i.e., one girl had the shirt, the other girl had the pants, etc).

I only hope they were able to find the restaurant. I think they needed it.

I was in and out, quick like that, myself. I haven’t been in much of a People Mood the past few days, and coming back to work hasn’t helped that mood much, but I will say two last things: 1) I got some great underwear, no lie, like I may marry them, and,

2) Hattiesburg has, at least, one thing going for it, in its favor. All the doors were unlocked…

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