Sweat + Small Stuff = …

It’s almost midnight, once again, and I got back from two hours at the gym about twenty minutes ago.

As I am actually sweating, today was just one of those day where the small stuff really made me sweat, with a few panicky moments.

For starters, today was one of my favorite days of the semester, Mafia Day, where I get to discuss the play Trifles with my sections, and reward them with a game of Mafia to bring out their acting skills. In my first section of the day, it was pretty much dead (no pun intended), but in the second section, it got rowdy, boisterous, and fun, with wild accusations being thrown across the room, friends becoming enemies, enemies becoming friends, and of course, in the last few minutes of class, I screwed up the game.

We were down to 11 students: 4 mafia (1 had been discovered) and 7 townies. The two students up for “the pit” were the Milliner, who was innocent, and the Lounge Singer, who was in the mafia. The vote was cast, and 6 hands went up for Milliner, and 6 for the Lounge Singer. I was confused, but then someone pointed out that the Librarian (who’d been killed in the round prior) had stuck her hand up for the Lounge Singer, so her vote did not count, putting the Milliner in the pit by a vote of 6-5. Unfortunately, stupid me got caught up in the heat of the moment and announced that the Lounge Singer had been killed when it had been the Milliner. That mistake caused the Lounge Singer to reveal that he was in the mafia, significantly changing the outcome of the game: now, 3 mafia and 6 townies were left alive. We only had about one minute remaining, so in the fourth round, obviously the mafia chose to kill the Milliner since I obviously did not do a good job of it, leaving 3 mafia and 5 townies. A quick round of accusations resulted in the Town Mayor and the Welder up for “the pit” (which didn’t matter, since both were innocent), ultimately ending our game with 3 mafia and 4 townies. Had the game been able to continue from that point, the mafia would have one final chance to win, if they were to successfully nominate and vote out one more townie, they would gain control and win the game; but the remaining townies could also have won as well if they managed to guess correctly.

If we press the rewind button, and I’d announced the correct death, we’d have been down to 4 mafia and 5 townies. Again, same scenario as above, only with fewer people dying. Either way, it’s likely that the mafia probably would have won, but the surviving townies were rather outspoken and might have knocked off the remaining mafia, who were all keeping to themselves.

Fail on me, number one.

The next two were even smaller, but still stung: first, as I walked into my office, I heard a crunch – I stepped on an assignment that one of my office-mate’s students had slipped under the door, tearing a hole in it with my boot. I fired off an apologetic email to my office-mate (who was gracious enough to respond, saying that it was not my fault), and went to copy said torn paper. On my way to the copy room, I walked past one of the other offices. Its door was propped open, and it was dark inside, which is quite unusual. Knowing that there were several expensive things in that room (a desktop computer, a coffee maker, personal items), I knocked on the door, causing the light to turn on…startling one of my colleagues, who was taking a quick nap at his desk. I shrank back and apologized for disturbing him, even though he told me that the door was propped open because he was expecting a student anyway.

Ay-yay-yay. I gotta stop saying that.

And I gotta stop sweating the small stuff, once I apologize to my student for accidentally pushing him into the pit.

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