Best laid plans of mice and men

"Best laid plans of mice and men," is one of my dad's favorite sayings. It ends with "Often goes awry."

He said it every time one of our plans fell though.

Well . . .

One of my daughter's plans has fallen through.

She had been planing to go to beauty college for at least three years--once she graduated from HS.

Last month she graduated but she waited a month to have a bit of vacation before she registered for school.

Today I took her to our local beauty college.

I was expecting them to tell us it'll be roughly $1,000.00, total.

Nope.

Wrong.

They told us . . . .

$10,000.00

???

What the hell?

I had to ask the lady in charge of admissions to repeat the amount.

Wow.

That is ever so much more than a thousand dollars.

Yipes.

So we're filling out forms to see if she qualifies for funding.

If she doesn't?

Well, we do have a local community college.

My daughter, poor thing, is upset. To say the least.

Best laid plans of mice and men. Indeed!

Here is the poem:

Best Laid Schemes O' Mice and Men

by Robert Burns

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,

O, what a panic is in your little breast!

You need not start away so hasty

With argumentative chatter!

I would be loath to run and chase you,

With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion

Has broken Nature's social union,

And justifies that ill opinion

Which makes thee startle

At me, your poor, earth born companion

And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;

What then? Poor little beast, you must live!

An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves

Is a small request;

I will get a blessing with what is left,

And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!

Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!

And nothing now, to build a new one,

Of coarse grass green!

And bleak December's winds coming,

Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,

And weary winter coming fast,

And cozy here, beneath the blast,

You thought to dwell,

Till crash! the cruel plough passed

Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,

Has cost you many a weary nibble!

Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,

Without house or holding,

To endure the winter's sleety dribble,

And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes of mice and men

Go often askew,

And leave us nothing but grief and pain,

For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!

The present only touches you:

But oh! I backward cast my eye,

On prospects dreary!

And forward, though I cannot see,

I guess and fear!