Spring Break, Yearbook Deadlines & Things That Begin With “Y”

In one week, Spring Break arrives, and you probably think I’d be ecstatic. 

I’m not.

You probably think I’d be in a pleasant, warm, fuzzy mood.

I’m not.

Instead, I’m cranky, tired and miserable.

With spring break a mere one week away, it’s the season for hating my yearbook rep and all things that are yearbook or remotely yearbook.


In fact, at this point, I hate anything that even begins with a “Y.”

Now, before I start getting sales pitches from other yearbook reps, please note that this hating on yearbooks is a generic hatefest.

It’s not my yearbook reps fault.

At any other time of year,  I rather like him. From April to February, he’s really a rather wonderful guy. He brings me Starbucks–a nonfat, three raw sugar latte every time he visits me. He returns phone calls promptly. He’s a problem-solver, and he never, ever yells at me.

He’s all the things I’m not—organized, detail-oriented and pleasant.

He’s even in shape.

I hate the guy.

My yearbook pages are now past due. The yearbook company even has a nifty little pie chart showing our status–as if  I need a colorful reminder of how far behind we are.

I hate pie charts.

At one point last week, we somehow managed to get more than 100 pages behind. (All the pages need to be in before spring break in order to keep our shipping date.)

I called my yearbook rep last week, but didn’t leave a message.

He noticed the missed call, promptly called me back and left me a message about what he thought my message would have been about had I left one.

Of course, he was right, you know.

Jeez Louise, I hate that guy…and yearbooks and yachts and yaks and yams and yellow and…