Hoo, boy. This has been a weekend of good and bad, people.
Friday was good; my dad and I went out to dinner and I had a lovely spicy ham and cheese sandwich. It made me happy.
Saturday morning, I awoke and took Lena in for a vet check-up. She was due for her heart worm test and a Lyme vaccine booster. I had initially been hesitant about the vaccine, but her records indicated that her former owner had the shot administered, so I figured that she handled it well.
The vet visit went off without a hitch and we returned to the house for a day of relaxation.
Around 5 p.m., I went with my parents to meet some friends for dinner at a local favorite pizza place. It was fantastic, and we invited the friends over afterwards to check out the progress on my parents' bathroom remodel. In the course of this visit, Lena started to experience some changes in appearance.
It started when my mom was holding her and I happened to notice that one of her cheeks looked a little swollen. This quickly escalated into an all out facial expansion. Immediately, I put in a call to my vet brother. No answer. So I called his vet girlfriend. No answer. So I called my vet aunt. She answered. Her advice was to give Lena 25 mg of Benedryl.
After a run to the drug store to purchase Benedryl, drugs were administered and eventually things got better. Of course, this was after several rounds of vomiting and some intense scratching sessions.
Thankfully, this is a three-day weekend for me, so I can keep an eye on Lena for an extra 24 hours. But honestly, I can do without any further excitement for the rest of my time off. Viva la boring!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Weather patterns
I can hardly believe that I let my 11 month anniversary with Lena come and go with nary a thought. It is almost beyond comprehension (to me) that on February 8, it will be one year since she came to live with me. I was always one of those people who said that they wanted a dog, but just didn't have the time, space, money, etc.
But then I went and did it. And you know what? It really hasn't been a problem. Yes, occasional vet bills are not wonderful to contemplate (or pay), but in the long run, she is way cheaper than a child would be. Come to think of it, she is probably way cheaper than a boyfriend. My mother is probably reading this and worrying, but never fear, Lena will not stop me from dating (should the opportunity ever arise in the future).
So the weather predictors have forecasted snow in the near future. Not a lot of it, but at least an inch. Based on what we have had so far this month, that would make our total ground accumulation equal to about an inch. It's been crazy; yesterday the high temperature was 52 degrees! 52! Insane. But from a commuter's standpoint, it has been heavenly.
And you know what? Getting 1-2 inches isn't really that bad either. It's still drive-able and cleans up really quick. Although there will inevitably be the morons who think that they do not need to adjust their driving habits for winter and will careen into the ditch, much to the satisfaction of everyone else on the road.
Realistically, winter in MN is far from over. There is no way of knowing if we will be paying for this extended heat wave come April or May, but for now, I will take it. Thankfully I no longer need to contemplate the additional driving necessitated by being in school on top of working full time. I must now only worry about getting myself home at the end of each day.
This weekend, there is a new event coming to the Twin Cities, St. Paul to be specific. It is called "Crashed Ice" and is an event sponsored by the fine folks at Red Bull (of energy drink fame). Apparently there is a world championship for this sport, and part of it is coming here. In fact, the starting line is located next to the famous Cathedral of Saint Paul, site of my fabulous fall archives internship. It is a little strange to contemplate adrenaline-spiked people on ice skates racing next to and down the steps of this religious landmark, but that is just what they will be doing.
According to their website, the "sport" originated in Stockholm, Sweden in the early 2000's. I suppose the Swedish part of me should be proud, but I am not quite willing to commit to that claim until I see or know a little more about it. True, I do love me some hockey, but this seems a little bit... odd. Unnatural somehow. To be honest, it sounds a bit like something my brother and his friends would have made up when they were in middle school. In fact, they did make up a game that involved snow and hills, but I will save the details of the thrilling game of "Saucerbee" for another time.
But then I went and did it. And you know what? It really hasn't been a problem. Yes, occasional vet bills are not wonderful to contemplate (or pay), but in the long run, she is way cheaper than a child would be. Come to think of it, she is probably way cheaper than a boyfriend. My mother is probably reading this and worrying, but never fear, Lena will not stop me from dating (should the opportunity ever arise in the future).
So the weather predictors have forecasted snow in the near future. Not a lot of it, but at least an inch. Based on what we have had so far this month, that would make our total ground accumulation equal to about an inch. It's been crazy; yesterday the high temperature was 52 degrees! 52! Insane. But from a commuter's standpoint, it has been heavenly.
And you know what? Getting 1-2 inches isn't really that bad either. It's still drive-able and cleans up really quick. Although there will inevitably be the morons who think that they do not need to adjust their driving habits for winter and will careen into the ditch, much to the satisfaction of everyone else on the road.
Realistically, winter in MN is far from over. There is no way of knowing if we will be paying for this extended heat wave come April or May, but for now, I will take it. Thankfully I no longer need to contemplate the additional driving necessitated by being in school on top of working full time. I must now only worry about getting myself home at the end of each day.
This weekend, there is a new event coming to the Twin Cities, St. Paul to be specific. It is called "Crashed Ice" and is an event sponsored by the fine folks at Red Bull (of energy drink fame). Apparently there is a world championship for this sport, and part of it is coming here. In fact, the starting line is located next to the famous Cathedral of Saint Paul, site of my fabulous fall archives internship. It is a little strange to contemplate adrenaline-spiked people on ice skates racing next to and down the steps of this religious landmark, but that is just what they will be doing.
According to their website, the "sport" originated in Stockholm, Sweden in the early 2000's. I suppose the Swedish part of me should be proud, but I am not quite willing to commit to that claim until I see or know a little more about it. True, I do love me some hockey, but this seems a little bit... odd. Unnatural somehow. To be honest, it sounds a bit like something my brother and his friends would have made up when they were in middle school. In fact, they did make up a game that involved snow and hills, but I will save the details of the thrilling game of "Saucerbee" for another time.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Resolution?
I need to learn to be more of a positive person. At least with respect to my career future. I think that I can hold on to my charming cynicism in other areas of life, but I need to think some happier thoughts about finding a new job.
It will not be easy.
I have become sadly accustomed to rejection. Some of it is outright and honest; these are employers who take the trouble to tell you that they are passing on you for their job. Some of them just never respond. Come to think of it, this whole thing sort of plays out like dating. Either you have the honest people who need closure so they come out and inform you in no uncertain terms that you will not be going out any more or they just disappear and hope you get the picture.
Hm.
My realization came today as I gathered my mail after Lena's afternoon walk. After a quick scan of envelopes, I found one from a place I applied to just last week. As it was light and appeared to contain only one sheet of paper, I assumed the worst. Instant rejection. So convinced was I that I nearly threw it away immediately. Thankfully, I opened it instead and found that it was not a rejection but merely a receipt, thanking me for my submission and letting me know that my materials would be reviewed in February when the committee reviews all applications.
So.
That's nice, right?
When seen from space, there is probably a detectable pattern of rejection expectation that plays out in other areas of my life. But I will refrain from outlining them here. Instead I will go in search of warmer foot covering as I fear my toes are going numb. Where are my sock monkey slippers?
It will not be easy.
I have become sadly accustomed to rejection. Some of it is outright and honest; these are employers who take the trouble to tell you that they are passing on you for their job. Some of them just never respond. Come to think of it, this whole thing sort of plays out like dating. Either you have the honest people who need closure so they come out and inform you in no uncertain terms that you will not be going out any more or they just disappear and hope you get the picture.
Hm.
My realization came today as I gathered my mail after Lena's afternoon walk. After a quick scan of envelopes, I found one from a place I applied to just last week. As it was light and appeared to contain only one sheet of paper, I assumed the worst. Instant rejection. So convinced was I that I nearly threw it away immediately. Thankfully, I opened it instead and found that it was not a rejection but merely a receipt, thanking me for my submission and letting me know that my materials would be reviewed in February when the committee reviews all applications.
So.
That's nice, right?
When seen from space, there is probably a detectable pattern of rejection expectation that plays out in other areas of my life. But I will refrain from outlining them here. Instead I will go in search of warmer foot covering as I fear my toes are going numb. Where are my sock monkey slippers?
Back into the shell
Excuse me, I am just coming off the high of a very relaxing and lovely weekend. It all started with my executive decision to stay home. This may not have meaning to you, but it has a great deal of meaning to me. Now I shall explain and you will find the meaning that you lack.
Way way back in the long ago when I moved back to Minnesota after college graduation (ten years ago, to be exact), I started my independent adult life. True, for the first few years of that life I lived in a condominium owned by my nursing-home bound grandfather, but it still felt pretty cool. As I did not own the place, I was occasionally subject to mass intrusion by my immediate family for holidays or other big ticket visits. My brother also became my roommate a few times on his summer breaks.
But at that time, my parents lived in Wisconsin, a good five to six hour drive away from me. Last minute visits were rare, so I was able to (mostly) live in my own little "grown-up" abode.
Then I got my undies in a bunch and decided that I really needed my "own" place. As the housing market was hot, I hopped right on the crazy train and purchased a townhouse of my very own. I reasoned that it would be an excellent investment as I would only be building equity with each monthly payment. Little did I know that major market changes were on the horizon, but that is part of a different story.
For several more years, I lived out my life in relative solitude. This is not to say that I was a hermit, but I did have some strong home-body tendencies. I could spend entire weekends at home with good books and/or movies and have no contact with the outside world.
Then my parents moved back to Minnesota. Shortly thereafter, my brother died unexpectedly. These two separate and unrelated changes led to me spending more time away from my house. My parents initially lived in my grandfather's condo, but eventually their Wisconsin house sold and they bought a house of their own here in Minnesota.
The next major event that led me to continue spending weekends away from my own house was the addition of a puppy to my parents' household. I had long been wanting a dog of my own, but I felt that my schedule and lifestyle would not properly accommodate one. Pippi satisfied my puppy longings, and her cuteness and terrier tenacity kept me coming back every week.
By the time Thor came around, I was already hooked, but he solidified my need to leave my hermit habits behind for a time.
When I made the decision to attend graduate school, I finally found a legitimate reason to stay at my parents' house on a regular basis. My townhouse is located in an outer suburb which makes travel a bit of a chore to certain places. To be clear, the commute from my house to school was in excess of an hour. The commute from my parents' house to school was about 20 minutes. The math makes sense.
Finally, last February, I adopted Lena. Combining dog ownership with graduate school was a bit of a scary decision, but I went ahead with it anyway. Luckily I had my parents and their hospitality to help me handle the transition. It was also helpful for Lena as it allowed her steady access to a fenced yard to encourage her free-range requirements that cannot be met in my townhome development.
But now, school is done. I have a dog of my own, so there is not as much of a need for me to get my puppy-fix elsewhere. Hence, I can now contemplate a return to my more hermit-like ways. Is this good or bad? Time will tell.
Way way back in the long ago when I moved back to Minnesota after college graduation (ten years ago, to be exact), I started my independent adult life. True, for the first few years of that life I lived in a condominium owned by my nursing-home bound grandfather, but it still felt pretty cool. As I did not own the place, I was occasionally subject to mass intrusion by my immediate family for holidays or other big ticket visits. My brother also became my roommate a few times on his summer breaks.
But at that time, my parents lived in Wisconsin, a good five to six hour drive away from me. Last minute visits were rare, so I was able to (mostly) live in my own little "grown-up" abode.
Then I got my undies in a bunch and decided that I really needed my "own" place. As the housing market was hot, I hopped right on the crazy train and purchased a townhouse of my very own. I reasoned that it would be an excellent investment as I would only be building equity with each monthly payment. Little did I know that major market changes were on the horizon, but that is part of a different story.
For several more years, I lived out my life in relative solitude. This is not to say that I was a hermit, but I did have some strong home-body tendencies. I could spend entire weekends at home with good books and/or movies and have no contact with the outside world.
Then my parents moved back to Minnesota. Shortly thereafter, my brother died unexpectedly. These two separate and unrelated changes led to me spending more time away from my house. My parents initially lived in my grandfather's condo, but eventually their Wisconsin house sold and they bought a house of their own here in Minnesota.
The next major event that led me to continue spending weekends away from my own house was the addition of a puppy to my parents' household. I had long been wanting a dog of my own, but I felt that my schedule and lifestyle would not properly accommodate one. Pippi satisfied my puppy longings, and her cuteness and terrier tenacity kept me coming back every week.
By the time Thor came around, I was already hooked, but he solidified my need to leave my hermit habits behind for a time.
When I made the decision to attend graduate school, I finally found a legitimate reason to stay at my parents' house on a regular basis. My townhouse is located in an outer suburb which makes travel a bit of a chore to certain places. To be clear, the commute from my house to school was in excess of an hour. The commute from my parents' house to school was about 20 minutes. The math makes sense.
Finally, last February, I adopted Lena. Combining dog ownership with graduate school was a bit of a scary decision, but I went ahead with it anyway. Luckily I had my parents and their hospitality to help me handle the transition. It was also helpful for Lena as it allowed her steady access to a fenced yard to encourage her free-range requirements that cannot be met in my townhome development.
But now, school is done. I have a dog of my own, so there is not as much of a need for me to get my puppy-fix elsewhere. Hence, I can now contemplate a return to my more hermit-like ways. Is this good or bad? Time will tell.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Technology be trippin' yo
I have a little gripe to get out of the way while it is still fresh in my mind. As I am becoming a seasoned veteran of the job application process, I am learning that some employers use more sophisticated methods than may be useful.
In the case of my most recent adventure, I found an archives-related job in an interesting location at a university, so I decided to apply. This university utilizes one of those online submission programs that has you fill in all of your information to create a profile, upload your documents and then submit everything.
This specific job had three "special" questions attached to it to determine qualification. The first two were archive and education related, and the third was about supervisory experience. I was able to answer yes to the first two, but I had to say no to the third. True, there was an option for "No Response," but I decided that honesty was best.
I reasoned that the hiring committee would be willing to at least take a look at my information because I was at least over 50% qualified. Besides, the position was for an ASSISTANT Archivist, not the head of a department. After answering the questions, the program let me proceed to add my resume, cover letter and list of references.
So far, so good, right? Well. As soon as I hit the final submit button to get my confirmation number, the site informed me that I would not advance to consideration because I did not meet all of the qualifications. Seriously? They could not have told me this BEFORE I went to the trouble to write a carefully worded cover letter?
In a less technologically advanced situation, I might have been given some consideration. They would have been able to review my education and work experience to see that while I have technically never supervised anyone, I have PLENTY of experience in a group work environment and am perfectly capable of training and keeping track of people.
This brings me back to one of my fundamental frustrations. Many if not most of the "good" job openings require some level of experience (which I do not yet have - in the library field). So first of all, how does one go about getting into a supervisory position without any supervisory experience? And since when does having experience mean that you are any good at it? There are tons of terrible managers out there, but apparently they are better qualified than me for every single job in the world because they can point to this in their employment history.
Never mind that I have done exemplary work in all areas of my life. Who cares? Never mind that I had to take an entire class on how to be a successful library manager. It apparently means nothing.
So I am a little bitter at the moment, if you cannot tell. Having an automated message inform you that no real human is even going to read your carefully written submission is more than disheartening. It is downright insulting.
In other more positive news, I have signed up to be a judge for History Day. As a former participant, I never really considered that I could be qualified to be a judge. Of course, I do possess a B.A. in history and I also now have a Master's degree. Oh, and I do love to evaluate things. It is also a wonderful feeling to complete an application and not be rejected immediately upon submission. So I guess I am 1-1 for the day. I suppose that is good enough for now.
In the case of my most recent adventure, I found an archives-related job in an interesting location at a university, so I decided to apply. This university utilizes one of those online submission programs that has you fill in all of your information to create a profile, upload your documents and then submit everything.
This specific job had three "special" questions attached to it to determine qualification. The first two were archive and education related, and the third was about supervisory experience. I was able to answer yes to the first two, but I had to say no to the third. True, there was an option for "No Response," but I decided that honesty was best.
I reasoned that the hiring committee would be willing to at least take a look at my information because I was at least over 50% qualified. Besides, the position was for an ASSISTANT Archivist, not the head of a department. After answering the questions, the program let me proceed to add my resume, cover letter and list of references.
So far, so good, right? Well. As soon as I hit the final submit button to get my confirmation number, the site informed me that I would not advance to consideration because I did not meet all of the qualifications. Seriously? They could not have told me this BEFORE I went to the trouble to write a carefully worded cover letter?
In a less technologically advanced situation, I might have been given some consideration. They would have been able to review my education and work experience to see that while I have technically never supervised anyone, I have PLENTY of experience in a group work environment and am perfectly capable of training and keeping track of people.
This brings me back to one of my fundamental frustrations. Many if not most of the "good" job openings require some level of experience (which I do not yet have - in the library field). So first of all, how does one go about getting into a supervisory position without any supervisory experience? And since when does having experience mean that you are any good at it? There are tons of terrible managers out there, but apparently they are better qualified than me for every single job in the world because they can point to this in their employment history.
Never mind that I have done exemplary work in all areas of my life. Who cares? Never mind that I had to take an entire class on how to be a successful library manager. It apparently means nothing.
So I am a little bitter at the moment, if you cannot tell. Having an automated message inform you that no real human is even going to read your carefully written submission is more than disheartening. It is downright insulting.
In other more positive news, I have signed up to be a judge for History Day. As a former participant, I never really considered that I could be qualified to be a judge. Of course, I do possess a B.A. in history and I also now have a Master's degree. Oh, and I do love to evaluate things. It is also a wonderful feeling to complete an application and not be rejected immediately upon submission. So I guess I am 1-1 for the day. I suppose that is good enough for now.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Another beautiful day in the neighborhood
Sadly, I believe that I am now fully re acclimated to the work environment. Never mind that I slept through my alarm this morning for a whopping 30 minutes of non-snooze-button-sanctioned dozing. Don't worry, I still got out the door in time.
If there is one thing that I believe helps me through my morning drudgery, it is my new Nespresso machine. It was a graduation gift from my parents, and I have used it every single morning that I have awoken in my own home. Lest you confuse this machine with its more well-known associate, the Keurig, let me set you straight. The Nespresso does not make latte's. It does not make chai. It does not make hot chocolate. It makes espresso.
There is a difference here, people. Not that I am knocking the multi-functional nature of other single-serve machines, but we are talking seriously high quality with this here device. It is sexy and sleek. The espresso pods must be ordered online and have fancy names like "Fortissimo Lungo" and "Roma." No Dunkin' Donuts K-Cups here, nosiree!
You may be thinking that I am silly to forsake all other coffees in favor of espresso. Honestly, if you found a way to travel back in time 15 years and tell 16 year-old barista Megan that she would one day love to drink espresso every morning, she would have laughed you out the door. It was hard enough for me to work in a few drops of espresso into my hot chocolates without making a face.
So what has happened? Well, if you asked my grandmother (which you can't because she is dead), she would tell you it is because I grew up. This is the woman who drank instant coffee (the crystal stuff) every day. I remember going to the grocery store with her as a child and sampling coffee only to be horrified by its bitterness. When I inquired as to why anyone would willingly drink this beverage, my grandmother informed me that it was an "acquired taste."
How does that work? Does anyone know? How did I bring this habit upon myself? Is it due to the influence of my mother and her love of lattes? Is it because I spent my working adolescence in coffee shops? Or is it just because I am old?
In other news, I have made the decision to spread my job search net a bit wider. That's right, I have applied for positions in Nebraska and North Dakota. Before you question my sanity, hear my reasoning. As a lifelong Midwesterner, I am aware that many people cringe at the thought of living in the "flyover states." However, as a Minnesotan, I am aware that some people make a deeper distinction, especially when it comes to the flat states.
It is for those very reasons that I hope my interest and applications will receive greater attention and consideration. Not only am I willing to relocate; I am willing to move to the lands of zero elevation. On the plus side, I am already technically a Midwesterner and the potential culture shock should not be quite as significant.
So now that I have sent a whole new batch of applications out into the world (I really should come up with a total "to date" count to illustrate how many times I have tried), I must play the waiting game and still keep and eye out for new prospects. If you see any good jobs pop up in Hawaii, just let me know. I know they are dying to have a pasty white Minnesota girl come and tell them all about Dewey Decimal, yo.
If there is one thing that I believe helps me through my morning drudgery, it is my new Nespresso machine. It was a graduation gift from my parents, and I have used it every single morning that I have awoken in my own home. Lest you confuse this machine with its more well-known associate, the Keurig, let me set you straight. The Nespresso does not make latte's. It does not make chai. It does not make hot chocolate. It makes espresso.
There is a difference here, people. Not that I am knocking the multi-functional nature of other single-serve machines, but we are talking seriously high quality with this here device. It is sexy and sleek. The espresso pods must be ordered online and have fancy names like "Fortissimo Lungo" and "Roma." No Dunkin' Donuts K-Cups here, nosiree!
You may be thinking that I am silly to forsake all other coffees in favor of espresso. Honestly, if you found a way to travel back in time 15 years and tell 16 year-old barista Megan that she would one day love to drink espresso every morning, she would have laughed you out the door. It was hard enough for me to work in a few drops of espresso into my hot chocolates without making a face.
So what has happened? Well, if you asked my grandmother (which you can't because she is dead), she would tell you it is because I grew up. This is the woman who drank instant coffee (the crystal stuff) every day. I remember going to the grocery store with her as a child and sampling coffee only to be horrified by its bitterness. When I inquired as to why anyone would willingly drink this beverage, my grandmother informed me that it was an "acquired taste."
How does that work? Does anyone know? How did I bring this habit upon myself? Is it due to the influence of my mother and her love of lattes? Is it because I spent my working adolescence in coffee shops? Or is it just because I am old?
In other news, I have made the decision to spread my job search net a bit wider. That's right, I have applied for positions in Nebraska and North Dakota. Before you question my sanity, hear my reasoning. As a lifelong Midwesterner, I am aware that many people cringe at the thought of living in the "flyover states." However, as a Minnesotan, I am aware that some people make a deeper distinction, especially when it comes to the flat states.
It is for those very reasons that I hope my interest and applications will receive greater attention and consideration. Not only am I willing to relocate; I am willing to move to the lands of zero elevation. On the plus side, I am already technically a Midwesterner and the potential culture shock should not be quite as significant.
So now that I have sent a whole new batch of applications out into the world (I really should come up with a total "to date" count to illustrate how many times I have tried), I must play the waiting game and still keep and eye out for new prospects. If you see any good jobs pop up in Hawaii, just let me know. I know they are dying to have a pasty white Minnesota girl come and tell them all about Dewey Decimal, yo.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Comforting myself
I believe that it is a true sign of maturity when one can calm one's own nerves effectively.
My vacation is over. It was not exotic and I did not see anything new or do anything crazy or stupid. I did not fly anywhere in an airplane. I did test my limits of family interaction, but I have survived mostly unscathed.
One of the most difficult things about taking time off is facing the inevitable return to work. For me, the hardest aspect of this is that I must alter my sleeping schedule back to the ridiculous alarm time of 5:30 a.m. The night before is the worst; I sit in bed anxiously remembering all of the things I so blissfully pushed out of my head while I was on break.
Last night, sleep finally came sometime after midnight. But it did not last, readers, it did not last. I awoke every hour until I finally opened my eyes to read that my clock was at 5:15 a.m. Normally, I make use of my snooze button a few times every morning. But after the first one ended at 5:35, I decided to break the habit (for today) and get up a little earlier.
With a heavy sigh, I swung my feet down to the floor as Lena joyfully leaped from the bed. If only I could muster up her enthusiasm for the day! Next, I trudged like a weary soldier through my morning routine to the marching tune of "I hate my job, I hate my job." When I finally made it to the shower, I stopped my chant to think about my day from a different perspective.
You see, it isn't really that I hate my job. It is more that I am frustrated and ready to move on to a new job, and every day that I spend in my old one is a reminder that I have not yet achieved my goal. Never mind that I have had my MLIS degree for only two weeks so far. Plus, I really do enjoy seeing and speaking with my coworkers, and I knew that once I got back into the swing of things and took up those relationships again, I would feel better.
And you know what? I was right.
Even though my job search is far from over, my dating life is stuck in reverse and my house still looks like a disaster zone; it will be OK. At least for today. If you ask me about this tomorrow at 5:30 a.m., I might have a different response.
My vacation is over. It was not exotic and I did not see anything new or do anything crazy or stupid. I did not fly anywhere in an airplane. I did test my limits of family interaction, but I have survived mostly unscathed.
One of the most difficult things about taking time off is facing the inevitable return to work. For me, the hardest aspect of this is that I must alter my sleeping schedule back to the ridiculous alarm time of 5:30 a.m. The night before is the worst; I sit in bed anxiously remembering all of the things I so blissfully pushed out of my head while I was on break.
Last night, sleep finally came sometime after midnight. But it did not last, readers, it did not last. I awoke every hour until I finally opened my eyes to read that my clock was at 5:15 a.m. Normally, I make use of my snooze button a few times every morning. But after the first one ended at 5:35, I decided to break the habit (for today) and get up a little earlier.
With a heavy sigh, I swung my feet down to the floor as Lena joyfully leaped from the bed. If only I could muster up her enthusiasm for the day! Next, I trudged like a weary soldier through my morning routine to the marching tune of "I hate my job, I hate my job." When I finally made it to the shower, I stopped my chant to think about my day from a different perspective.
You see, it isn't really that I hate my job. It is more that I am frustrated and ready to move on to a new job, and every day that I spend in my old one is a reminder that I have not yet achieved my goal. Never mind that I have had my MLIS degree for only two weeks so far. Plus, I really do enjoy seeing and speaking with my coworkers, and I knew that once I got back into the swing of things and took up those relationships again, I would feel better.
And you know what? I was right.
Even though my job search is far from over, my dating life is stuck in reverse and my house still looks like a disaster zone; it will be OK. At least for today. If you ask me about this tomorrow at 5:30 a.m., I might have a different response.
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