I was informed by my son today that my impressive skills as a "fixer" have awarded me the illustrious position of custodian at his Power Ranger Academy. I couldn't tell if the school is a school for the Power Rangers, or one where the children are taught by Power Rangers as the story changed with every passing second, but I can tell you that I'm now the man in charge of fixing things.
The fact that I was given the job after absentmindedly not drilling a small test hole first, thereby drilling a hole into the wood that was large enough for a drywall anchor but way too big for the screw goes to show you the incredible state of disrepair in store for the Power Ranger Academy. I can only hope that their problems are limited to busted light bulbs, clogged toilets and the occasional ceiling fan replacement. If one of the Power Rangers accidentally bowls a hole in the wall, I can fix that too, however it'll take me a few months to do so. Anything more than that and these poor folks are well and truly fucked.
I was also introduced to a sport taught at the Power Rangers academy whereby a super ball is rolled on the floor with one's hand. First it was called Floor Ball, then Floor Hand Ball, then Hand Floor Ball, then "One" and finally "Thirty Eight". I wish I was making this up. After hearing about the rigorous PE program at the Power Ranger Academy, complete with shifting names and made up games, I'm glad that my duties exist solely in the realm of fixing things. I'd hate to tell the kids that we're spending the period playing a rousing game of Fifty Seven when they're clearly dressed for a match of One Hundred and Seventy Nine. That would just be too embarrassing.