(no subject)
I am no longer unemployed - now I am merely under-employed. Which is to say, I have a part time job in the "other people's books, our users" department of the campus library (my name, not theirs). This is good. I like libraries, I like books, and it's an workplace where I can wear jeans and a tshirt if I want (and, oh, I do want.) (My boss wears jeans and a polo shirt, which means you can totally see his wrist tattoo. I suspect this is one of the benefits of working in a back room in a basement.) I spent today mailing books back to basically every university in the northeast. Except Harvard; I haven't learned to mail things to Harvard yet.
Then I went running. I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I hate hate hate running, so so much. If I were working out for the sake of working out, running would be my last choice. But no, I'm running so that when the fencing teams runs in the fall, I will not die (for values of death equivalent to shin splints lasting all spring, and that sucked so so much). At least I get to run somewhere pretty?
Right, now I'm just babbling, so I'm going to stop talking.
Then I went running. I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I hate hate hate running, so so much. If I were working out for the sake of working out, running would be my last choice. But no, I'm running so that when the fencing teams runs in the fall, I will not die (for values of death equivalent to shin splints lasting all spring, and that sucked so so much). At least I get to run somewhere pretty?
Right, now I'm just babbling, so I'm going to stop talking.
