Professional employment as a librarian brings with it many perks — access to books, continuing education opportunities, groupies, cult status, wild parties, superior booze, and an altogether higher class of hooker — but of course the main draw is the paycheck. I’ll be getting my first one tomorrow.
The downside to professional employment is that it eats up all of my time. There’s a stack of library books sitting at the foot of my bed, and if I don’t get some quality time with them soon it’s going to make it look like Carrie was mildly disappointed that time she went to prom.
One of the time drains is the gym. I’ve been going faithfully for about 6 months now. The irritating part is that I have absolutely precisely exactly the same waist measurements as when I started, which begs the question as to why I even bother. I mean apart from how I’m all healthier and stuff — other than that, why do I bother?
The good part is that I have muscles now. Cardiovascular exercise has not made me any svelter, but all that weight-lifting has given me some darn fine muscle definition. Though in the course of writing this paragraph I have learned that taking a flattering bicep selfie is approximately impossible. I share this image not because it conveys my She-Hulkiness but because being photobombed by your own stuffed koala is kind of cute.
The abbreviated vinyasa I go through at the gym does not exactly constitute a dedicated yoga practice, so really I probably should hunt for a local yoga studio. And once that happens even more of my time will be consumed, so I may as well go ahead and start kvetching about that now.
Observant readers will notice that I’ve been posting even less here than with my normal not-terribly-impressive weekly-ish schedule, and I’m really hoping my editors are criminally unobservant, because otherwise they’ll be noticing that I’ve written practically nothing since I moved here.
So, to sum up: even though I’ve been doing almost no reading or writing or yoga, I’m still somehow completely strapped for time, so I’m going to go ahead and blame this squarely on the whole employment thing. Which is still better than the whole unemployment thing, but geeze.
I’m going to wrap this up now — that stack of books isn’t going to read itself — but I’ll end with something good: today I had the chance to communicate with one of my very favorite authors. I won’t divulge the particulars here, but let me put it this way: the interaction was arguably better than the time Pat Rothfuss wrote to compliment my review of The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle. (And yeah, I am so totally on a first-syllable basis with Pat. Sure I am.)
Happy Halloween, and happy birthday to Goblin and Gremlin, who will celebrate their twelfth and eleventh birthdays tomorrow. I’ll post a picture of my costume if I can manage to improve my self portraiture.