I'm lucky to have a job and I'm especially fortunate to have one I enjoy, but sometimes work is still....work. And on Fridays I get a little jolt of excitement, the rush of impending freedom.
Work has been crazier than usual lately. In addition to all my normal work, I've been doing the payroll for a few weeks. It makes me nervous - I don't want to make any mistakes. Plus it's a weird feeling to write out one's own paycheck. But it keeps things interesting. I can hardly believe I've been working here for nine years now. What a long strange trip it's been. And I mean that in the very best way.
The working hard I don't mind so long as it's balanced out by some playing hard. Last weekend Mom and I saw Les Misérables at the Auditorium Theater (such a depressing story but the music is beautiful). This week Mike and I went to free member movie night at The Little to see The Great Gatsby (and now I am coveting all those 1920's dresses hardcore) and we caught the tail end of Rusted Root playing at the Lilac Festival (but it was too crowded to move or find anyone). I'm hoping this weekend will be filled with running and kettle corn or possibly a frosty in a waffle cone, which the radio told me is a new thing. It's about time.
I would like to be spending some time on my brand new porch, but the guy got held up on another job and now he can't start work on my house until next week. I just want to get it all over with and pay him because the longer I wait the harder it is to keep myself from going into full-on ridiculous mode and freaking out about spending money. That train of thought runs nonstop service to a future where I am destitute and living in a cardboard box. And I do not want to be in a cardboard box. I want to be in a hammock swing. On a porch. Eating a frosty.
Lyric of the moment: "Baby in our wildest moments, we could be the greatest, we could be the greatest. Baby in our wildest moments, we could be the worst of all..."
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