What happened to the rest of August?

Maybe not, but it’s close. Doorknob probably has the best job in the entire world. He gets paid to play video games and then write about them. And he gets to be honest about it, which is the best part of the whole thing in my opinion.

I get to wear blue-jeans to work, and t-shirts as long as they’re logo free, and any kind of shoe I want except flip-flops. I could even wear shorts but I don’t wear shorts outside the comfort of my home as a general rule. And I’ll be surrounded by books the whole time! Of course, I haven’t actually been yet. I don’t go in until tonight and most of tonight will be me learning the ropes from someone named Courtney. Her name alone leaves the potential for her to be entirely too perky for her own good. I really shouldn’t criticize. My parents gave me a name that is commonly found among cheerleaders and prostitutes and I’m a far cry from either of those, er, professions. Luckily, I won’t be on the level where all the children are so I shouldn’t have to worry about sticky fingers and runny noses … but this is a public library so you never know.

Barring death threats or wicked bosses, I think I’ll be pretty happy.

Sometimes I eat cereal. Never for breakfast because food in the morning is not something my body does well. Yeah, yeah, breakfast is the most important meal of the day blah, blah, blah. So what? I might die a few years earlier, but I bet I’d die a lot sooner if I smoked and drank and behaved badly in more obvious ways than avoiding food before 11 AM. The past three times I’ve had cereal, after I have finished and there’s just a little bit of milk in the bottom of the bowl, I let my cat have a lick or two.

It seems this little bit of milk in the bottom of the bowl and whatever flavors it picked up from the cereal is some sort of drug to my cat. When I got a bowl and the box of cereal down earlier he started meowing like a maniac. And his volume and persistency increased as I ate. It was a little embarrassing. He doesn’t do this when Paul eats cereal. (Paul eats his cereal dry. Always. Eeeew.) And Chester never begs for milk.

Next time I eat cereal I may have to lock the cat in the bedroom.

Edit: No, I don’t actually let my cat lick the bowl, I just said that to save the explanation of what I really do. Forgive me for trying to abbreviate my posts, but I received some criticism from an unnamed source, so I’ll clear it up for you. What I actually do is dip a finger in whatever milk is left at the bottom of the bowl and dab Chester’s nose with it. I do this about twice and then go into the kitchen, clean the bowl out, and wash my hands. So n-yah to you.

The job is mine. I probably won’t start until Monday. Since I’ve completed all the paperwork, I passed the drug test, I know how to count, and I know my alphabet I could technically start today. It’s a night and weekend position and I still have to arrange which evenings of the week I’ll be going in. I do know that I will never have to work on a Friday.

So now all I have to do is take care of the details, and find out what kind of dress code they have.

It’s nothing special. Just a little part time position at the local library. It pays more than my last job though. I actually hope I hear back from them … and preferably something other than “Dear Picklehead.”

Update: So I heard back from them already. They want me to come in for an interview tomorrow.