I came home from work, opened the back door for Bash, then passed out. I just woke up.

I hate naps--I am inevitably filled with great washing swells of ennui and uselessness after a nap. Nothing could possibly seem like a good thing to do. Books. Yawn. Computer. Blink. Television. Bang, bang bang (that's the sound of my head against my living room wall). Tasks that must be done in preparation for imminent mom arrival. Whine. Do I have to?

It's times like these that I wish J-bird was my neighbor. He'd have something fun for me. I don't have anything fun for me. J-bird says I should move to Chicago next year. Except I bet he'd move as soon as I got there. He's forever on the move.

With the onset of the fall semester I now have, once again, a whole gaggle of student workers whom I must supervise. (Whoa. Rereading that sentence, I'm struck: it's the most boring sentence filled with the most boring words in the English language. Let's blame it on the nap, shall we?) Unlike any other time in the history of my job, my current group of students are entirely too efficient. They've done all the work. It's all done. Therefore, my entire job consists, now, of me scurrying around trying to find tasks for them to do. It's exhausting. And really really stupid.

This morning I had a great bout of job love, though. I was tipping loose pages into their respective book homes and I thought, how cool is this? I get paid to care for books. Not to sell them to anyone, not to teach them to anyone, not to critique them, not even to read them. I get to make sure the books in the public library are feeling ok. If they're not, I get to fix them up. Neato mosquito.

I'm listening to This American Life and Mr. Rogers is talking and wow, just, wow. Does he walk around like this all the time? He's so extremely good.

Harold is insisting I pay attention to him. This is how he insists: he opens his mouth wide as he can, latches on to any bit of exposed skin he can find and then he just hangs on. Not hard, not to break the skin, just...getting my attention. He does the same thing to Bash. We are both excessively tolerant.

Oh boring life.

Welcome to dullsville, y'all. I'm the mayor of this here town.