When I first started Barnette's class, I was a bit leery of the whole set up he was proposing. I knew it could be done, heck, I had seen it on occasion back in Montgomery, but I wasn't so sure that I could, or should, be a part of it. But, the class was cheap enough and I didn't have anything else to do at 11:30 on … Read more

When I first started Barnette's class, I was a bit leery of the whole set up he was proposing. I knew it could be done, heck, I had seen it on occasion back in Montgomery, but I wasn't so sure that I could, or should, be a part of it. But, the class was cheap enough and I didn't have anything else to do at 11:30 on Wednesday nights. Not since the vacuum broke. I got there a bit late on the first night, I forgot I left the winch line tangled on the ground and, wouldn't you know it, the neighbors mailbox tore the bumper right off my Subaru Brat. I guess I deserved it in some Karmic way for stealing the victoria Secret catalogs out of their mailbox every now and then. Anyway, when I got there, I just slipped in so as not to make no fuss. I must have missed the introductions, or something, and it kind of seemed like I was in the wrong place. Everybody had weird names. Names like Grogglesnort, Mr. Phister, and Putzi. I thought I was in one of thse Frodo movies. Then Mr. Barnett noticed me going for my chewski and boomed "Welcome, Rontu." Now, I don't like being called names, especially ones that I'm not aware of their nationality, but I gave a jolly Ahoy, anyway. He seemed innocent enough. He took me aside later and explained that the name I was given was based on the seat I chose. He claimed, it's much easier for us to remember one new name than for him to try and recall a whole bunch of new ones every 7 weeks. Seems like a bright enough guy. I'm sure glad I didn't sit one seat to the left. I'd have been called, Cocklebottom. Well, by the third class I was feeling like I was making some progress. I know I wasn't the top of the class or nothing, but, still, I felt like I was getting my money's worth. Next week we took a field trip to his apartment and gave it a thorough cleaning. I folded laundry. I almost didn't show up to that class, but, he didn't tell us where we were going until he took the blindfolds off and we got out of his van. By the time the class was over, I felt like a new man. Well the same man, but with a new skill set. It wasn't one of those makeover classes or anything. And my ex-girlfriend thinks I'm a lot better now at folding her laundry too. I guess that class wasn't a waste of money. Anything to make that crazy woman happy. Thanks Mr. Barnette.