One Bad Apple

"Bad Apples Editing?" Dad sounded dubious over the phone. "Erm...is that...wise?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"What about Good Apples Editing?"

"Dad, I'm probably catering to college students at this point. Bad Apples sounds different."

I don't think he was convinced. "I'm guessing this is a nod to your...friend...at The Cesspit."

Well, yes. The only decent thing that came out of that whole debacle was Bad Apples.

What's funny about all this is that as a child, I was praised by my computer teacher about what a good little drone I was. "You always follow my directions," she said. Even at the tender age of seven, I wondered if that was really something to be all that proud of. About once a year I reflect on my education and what I got from it, and I always end up coming back to that statement. I wasn't praised for getting my work done, or doing brilliant work on the Typing Game Du Jour. No, I was good because I didn't make her life difficult.

I'm sure when you're dealing with hyperactive kids, the well-behaved ones are jewels. But I do feel like I was taught to be part of an assembly line. A drone. Just do as the leader says and don't make a scene and all will be right with the world.

I don't know. It's not my style. Apparently that makes me a bad apple nowadays.

Frankly, Bad Apples was the least offensive moniker I came up with. Other possible names I entertained:

• Chai Junkie Editing
• Zombie Editing Services (Saving the World from Bad Grammar...and the Undead)
• Grammar Police: To Serve and Correct (to be fair, I think I stole this from someone else)
• The Proofreader

Made the mistake of drinking chai last night and wound up bouncing off walls until 4; I managed to doze for three hours until the gardener showed up with his damned leaf blower...one day, I will write an entry about leaf blowers and how much I hate them. Suffice to say I believe he stood in front of my bedroom window for a good twenty minutes, less than four feet from my head, blower howling while he texted to his girlfriend about how he was keeping that lazy freelancer from getting her much-needed beauty rest.