The thin line between fact and fiction was blurred for me yesterday. And what I thought of as uncanny coincidence, my supervisors felt was more of a jinx on my part. I, however, maintain my innocence.

It all started on Tuesday. After work, I went home to relax before I had to go run some errands. I wound up watching a few episodes of South Park, that hilarious show about some elementary school kids and their adventures. One of the episodes I watched was called "Chickenpox." In it, some of the parents decide to send their kids to spend the night with a friend who has chickenpox, in the hopes that they catch it too, while they're young and sprightly enough to "not die."

Pretty funny, to be sure. Only it's partly (or mostly) based in reality. I know people whose parents did just that so that they, too, could catch the [theoretically] once-in-a-lifetime illness.

Anyway, cut to yesterday. I arrive at work, and soon after my arrival I head off to pick up the kindergartners I work with. I picked up two of the three from one classroom, then headed to the other classroom to pick up the third. I entered the room, and was promptly told by the teacher that the boy was out with the chickenpox. And one of the girls I work with from that class was at the nurse's office, being held there because she, too, had the chickenpox.

Needless to say, I quickly left that room, with a cursory "thanks" thrown in just for good measure. With any luck, the parents of these kids will keep them home from school again today, because I'm supposed to work with them. The last thing I need right now is to share oxygen with them. But if they are there, and I must work with them, it sure would be nice to have one of those biohazard suits to wear. That way, at least I'd be comfortable.