I need a good moodle. But unlike some people, I'm not even that organized. But I am pack-ratty. There are at least three desks (one is a drafting table...so much square footage to cover!), a dining room table, and various other flat surfaces covered with my precious ephemera. My biggest downfall is newspaper clippings. I barely have time to read the papers, so I flip weekly (not weakly) through the gathered pile and clip out anything that interests me. Then I put those in another pile, which I will someday read/scan, and sort into stuff for the magazine, stuff for me, and stuff for the recycling bin. It's MY system, and I like it.
My mother complains about my pile (to my dad and not to me), saying that it is a fire hazard. So is the stack of Christmas Wish Books she saved from the day my sister was born until the day both of us realized that there is no Santa. I won't divulge how old I was. I was old enough but not too old.
Anyhow, I've completed week #4 at the New Job. I guess it's about time I stop calling it new. I'm settling in, I guess. By the end of this week, I almost felt like I knew what I was doing AND that I was being productive. So it's almost like I'm earning the money they're giving me. Almost. I still can't believe that I'm getting paid to do this. I think my disbelief is connected to all the years I worked crappy restaurant jobs. You work damn hard, long and late hours, for a mere pittance without pity. Instead, people usually treat you like crap. But not at the (new) job. People are mostly respectful, kind, and nice. Fun? Not so much (still). But nice.
Today is my dog day of late summer. Just me and the dog and some quality time. The poor little guy, who is still recovering from his surgery over a month ago, is doing well. He limps a little if he wants to run. But there's nearly no sign of the injury if he walks. But that doesn't mean that he won't work my sympathy nerve whenever he can. I swear that he has given me the "oh, it's you...whatsyername" look several times. So today, it's just me and him. His routine hasn't changed. He's sleeping. But he's sleeping next to me. And that's okay.
My mother complains about my pile (to my dad and not to me), saying that it is a fire hazard. So is the stack of Christmas Wish Books she saved from the day my sister was born until the day both of us realized that there is no Santa. I won't divulge how old I was. I was old enough but not too old.
Anyhow, I've completed week #4 at the New Job. I guess it's about time I stop calling it new. I'm settling in, I guess. By the end of this week, I almost felt like I knew what I was doing AND that I was being productive. So it's almost like I'm earning the money they're giving me. Almost. I still can't believe that I'm getting paid to do this. I think my disbelief is connected to all the years I worked crappy restaurant jobs. You work damn hard, long and late hours, for a mere pittance without pity. Instead, people usually treat you like crap. But not at the (new) job. People are mostly respectful, kind, and nice. Fun? Not so much (still). But nice.
Today is my dog day of late summer. Just me and the dog and some quality time. The poor little guy, who is still recovering from his surgery over a month ago, is doing well. He limps a little if he wants to run. But there's nearly no sign of the injury if he walks. But that doesn't mean that he won't work my sympathy nerve whenever he can. I swear that he has given me the "oh, it's you...whatsyername" look several times. So today, it's just me and him. His routine hasn't changed. He's sleeping. But he's sleeping next to me. And that's okay.
posted by kuzcolike at
9:50 AM
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