Crossing Over

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is at a crossroads, my friends. She has slowed down to almost a stop, what with her screeching brakes installed by HH, and is looking carefully to the left, right, then left again before deciding if she is going to cross this bridge that she has come to. Should she continue blogging, or board up the Mansion and move to the real world? Here now! Don't all of you shout out at once! This is not a ploy to garner compliments from my multitude of readers. Laws, NO! M-O-O-N. That spells, "I do not have self-esteem issues that require validation of my talents." I have been quite entertained by my little Mansion for the past 3 years. It's a place where I can let my warped sense of humor ooze out of my brittle funny bone. But there comes a time when all good things must end.

The new school year is approaching at the speed of a newly-licensed driver with a car full of cronies. I will be teaching two new classes this year, after just pulling together five new classes last year. My student load will increase three-fold. I foresee another year of staying after school for an extra hour every day. I will have a different kind of student, a random sampling, a cross-section, if you will. That means some of them will have parents who care about what is going on at school.

Even though I have never used my Mansion as a town meeting to discuss my employment agenda, I am afraid that any random person may decide that I am indeed a witch in need of burning. My paranoia may lessen if I abandon my Mansion, perhaps even commit an act of arson. Time permitting, I could build a new Mansion, in a new neighborhood, and start afresh, with a brand spankin' new identity issued by the Bureau of Blogger Protection. A Mansion where, umm...nothing much ever happens.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I have a couple weeks to figure it out. I'll post a 'condemned' sign on the Mansion before I make a move. You know how it goes. No forwarding address. But I can be tracked by the return address on my letters. If you know what I mean.

Just sayin'...if I disappear, don't call out that woman with the dog who used to find dead people's bones every time she was called out on a case. Because she was throwing down bones left and right, and I wouldn't want anyone to think I had 11 toes or anything.