Groovy Tunes, Saturday

[furnaceface]

Jono stared in bemusement at the fall schedule in his hands. There had been some adjustments to it that he hadn't seen coming, really, but he was capable of going with the flow. An improv class at the school? Fine, it freed up the Boards for other things, like perhaps a fall showcase or a proper production, if he had the time. He'd need to adjust the curriculum slightly, perhaps, but it meant that he wouldn't need to clear the Boards out again every time he and Hannibal made another attempt at getting married.

... It was sad that he had come to refer to them as 'attempts to get married.'

All in all, this was not a disaster. Hell, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had already been feeling kind of guilty for planning on taking some breathing room (so to speak) from the students for a semester or two, and some moose or gremlin had simply righted his wrong and made everything the way it always should have been.

//Oh, I know I didn't spell 'theatre' the American way when I applied to teach that class.//

Well. Almost everything.

If anybody needed Jono today, he was going to be listening to punk music and trying to come up with a syllabus. English punk music. Siouxsie, the Sex Pistols, The Clash. The Adicts. Generation X just because their name always amused him a little. There was a bit of a pile of CDs at the front counter before long, and for once, the stereo was even cooperating with him.

[OOC: OCD free!]