working girl

Full-time employment is wearing on my time. My evening hours are limited and fill up much too fast. For example, I came home Tuesday night, had dinner, and practiced piano for a while, and all of a sudden it was time to pack a lunch and go to bed.

Though short on free time, I have no shortage of post ideas, so I'm going to get the ball rolling with a quick glimpse into my work day. Elaboration is forthcoming, but this will have to do for now. My days go as follows:

I curse this and ignore it repeatedly. (Yes, those are frog stickers on my alarm clock, reminders of my frog phase of 2003.)

I stand here

waiting for this.

I love feeling the wave of reassurance that comes from seeing my bus crest the hill. It means that I'm not late, and that in no time, I'll get to see Wanda, with her pink lipstick and pollyanna hairdo, the man with the Vitamin Cottage bag, pony tail, and baseball cap, and the boy who spends the whole ride absorbed in a book. (I keep trying to catch of glimpse of what he's reading, but he doesn't keep the book jackets on his reading material. I think they might be dragon books. I'm not sure.)

After a parade of neighborhoods and neighbors, I exit here,

where I use the special card clipped to my clothes (I refuse to wear a lanyard) to unlock doors and where I spend the day with Nichole, Tim, Geoff, and Mo, using up mass quantities of this: