Why is this night different from all the others?
Because tonight I celebrate having been at my new job one month. The month has flown by with nary a headache or nightmare or sinking feeling in my stomach to pester me. I think more than anything else the side effect of bad jobs I dislike most is that terrible, doomed sensation of knowing another week of tedium interspersed with panicky emergencies is just around the corner and you can hardly enjoy where you're at for dreading it. Lord knows I've had a lot of that in my past. It's so good to break the tradition and start a new one.
Life is speeding up. Oh, not so's you would notice from the outside. I still have beaucoup time to doodle around chatting online, read net diaries, and search the web for photos of cute guys. My scientist husband just rolls his eyes when he notices I'm doing this, by the way. Tough patooties is what I say. I don't care if physicists invented the Internet for scientific research; there are a lot of good looking men to ogle and I'm going to ogle them in my spare time. It's fun! Why is it so many cute guys are in Australia, or at least so many of them feel compelled to post their photos on the web? I'm quite capable of spending long hours during the day typing on the computer and then coming home and doing the same thing. If you call staring at pages of Aussie beefcake typing, that is.
Anyway, I swear I'm getting busier in my off-line life. Why, last weekend we had a houseguest and this weekend we're having a couple and their two sons over for dinner. You realize the importance of this, I'm sure. Yes, it means we have to clean the house every single week and I do mean clean, not tidy up the piles of newspapers. I'm a terrible housewife; I hate to clean, I really do. My problem lies in being someone who can't bear a dirty, untidy house. The two sides of me are constantly at war. Picture the good angel on one shoulder, mop in hand, urging me to practice cleanliness and good living. On the other shoulder is a woman waving a box of bonbons and a novel. I think she's the bad angel but I usually can't tell. I'm too busy looking for the caramels.
