self diagnosed

I was never labeled as a kid, but that may just have been that the technology wasn't up to date back in the seventies. I did well enough in school, so there was really never any reason to check any further. I could read, spell my name, didn't wet the bed or have night terrors...and I guess having taught elementary and middle school for the last few years, my disabilities continued to be masked. Because really, it doesn't take a genius to teach kids that are under the age of 12...trust me on this one. But now that I'm pretty much staring at numbers all day, dialing the phone constantly, I realize that I've developed dyslexia. For the life of me, I can't keep these little numbers in order!

212 gets punched in as 221, and god help me when I get a number like 867-5309, which ends up getting incredibly twisted around. And if I see you stuck in a burning car on the side of the highway, straining against the heat and twisted metal, screaming for someone to please call 9-1-1, I'll probably end up punching it in as 1-9-9 over and over, and you'll end up as a crispy little strip...probably closely resembling a large piece of bacon...on the shoulder of the road. I'll choke under the pressure to come up with the correct three digits in the correct order. Which means no 'hero' status, and no 'Today Show' interview...which means no chance to sit in Katie Couric's presence.

And why? All because of my fickung boj! I just might have to quit simply to regain a few lost I.Q. points.