Gronk.

Woke up very aware of which muscles are used for trapeze. Yow. Also, huh. My abs are way more sore than I expected.

Oh! Also - wrod wrt Andi's post! About which, I wholly agree with Kristin.

And, seriously, what you're doing is one of the most important jobs in the world; you're making a genuine, tangible difference to the quality of people's lives. It's a truly honorable and meaningful endeavour, and I'm delighted that along with the hard work it brings you joy.

As you'll likely have gathered, my job also gives me joy; it's not for everyone, but it makes me happy. And I've done jobs which I just sucked at, and had no respect for, and I'm profoundly grateful to have this opportunity to do something I so enjoy, and something to which my talents and personality are suited (although, heaven knows I still have a lot to learn, and hope to get better). I know that we don't all get that chance, and I'm very grateful for it.

I mean, yeah, sure, it would also be nice to have a love life. Or, you know, any savings, or a pension plan. Those are also good things to have. But I appreciate the hell out of what I've got - even if my, ah, hotcakes-of-love remain unbuttered.

Yeah, not everyone can do what I do. And, most of those who can, don't do it as well as I do.

And as much I think teachers are heroes, I know I can't do that job - managing a whole classroom, the kind of awareness that takes, I can't fathom.

But I'm having unexpected trouble wrapping my brain around it.

You've lost your plausible deniability!

Three months ago when I was banging and battering my way to the end of the book, I stopped at a bar on Haight Street. I walked into the Gold Cane and Jason, the bartender, and I struck up a conversation. When he found out I was writing a book about Tom Waits he said, "That is the coolest fucking job in the world." Which was a very timely and necessary reminder for me that, yes, it was a privilege to be able to write a book about a musician I admired and have complete freedom in doing it.

So, last night I had severe moving anxiety dreams--finding a new place, packing, moving day, then realizing on moving day that I didn't actually have anywhere to move to.

What's that all about?

What's that all about?

You accidentally got my dreams? I know I had some, but I don't remember what they were...

Ok. Well, I'll forgive you for sharing in this way, but just this once.

Gah. Heavy gronk. Just woke up from unsatisfying sleep dep snooze of around 10 hours.

Andi and I have today off, and we have to find a car.

Andi is back to sleeping after being rightly praised for her wiseness by y'all.

We shall catch up with nappage and find a car, yes we will.

Now? Meds. Pills and needles to feed my diabetes demon. blecch. Stoopid demon.

Hrm. I don't know how early is too early to start calling people about apartments. Like, if it looks like a "call the managers" and is an office number, I figure 9AM is OK (and if they dont' answer maybe there's a machine). But if it looks like some guy's number? Or if it says "We'll be showing the place on Saturday, just come by and buzz #204"?? How early is too early? I figure I'll go get some coffee and walk over to the "just buzz" one.

They might even have a note on the door, meara.

ION: I paid $2.52/gallon for gas last night. That's more than a 50 cent price drop from a month ago when we were inexplicably higher than most of the country. Wacky.