So, the first official week of work is in the can. I think I will like being the assistant director of the writing center; I say this, of course, without having tutored a single student yet. I did a bunch of stuff and made changes and suggested changes and filled out paperworkand pushed pencils (or is it paper?) and sometimes surfed the Interneck. I knew I was meant to do this and not stand behind a cash register. I just have to watch out for dreaded Librarian Butt, which results in many hours computering and Internecking at work, and then coming home and doing the same.

I now have copy codes so I can perpetute my white-collar crimes, and the code allowing me entry to the breakroom so I can get the good water. But the best part of it is that, four days a week, I can get out of the house and not be yelled at by a three-foot-tall person all day. If any of my tutees wipe their peanut-butter-and-jammy hands on me, I can either call security or punch them. Life is better when your sucker husband, who did not arrange childcare so that you could go to the party tonight, too, is home with the girlie.

Well, if I can’t go, then he’s not going either. Or maybe just I should go? I’m sure his old friend would love to see me at his 30th birthday instead of Mr. Husband.