After two years I got a job and not one involving a decision about with or without fries.
This is a job where I write. I knew this place was real when (a) the editor had an actual physical copy of my resume printed and in her hands and (b) she was excited about the three degrees (implied was the vast amount of loans to obtain said degrees) I've collected over time.
But I worry. Unemployment was good fodder for my writing. Will I be witty with a job? What now will I write about? Even now I search the toys on my desktop, looking for something to write about. Severus Snape? A dish of Red Hots that have been sitting here for four months? A pen cup containing pens of which only 2 percent actually write?
Oh yeah. This is supposed to be a blog about my training, which has turned into a blog about my back injury.
Well, I'll have to worry about this later. My dog needs to go out.