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On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I drive 1 hour and 20 minutes to work in the morning, and put in my hours, and then drive the 1 hour and 20 minutes back home. The job is fine, and it's all very challenging as all new jobs are. I had some research to do for a project after I got home, and I had a column to write too, so I'm pooped.
Today, I signed my name, using my official title. I never used it before, and it was one of those small and memorable moments.
I got home tonight, and Mary called me. I was listening to her and blabbing and then, suddenly, I looked and my beta was wrapped around the filter in an odd way. I tapped the glass. Nothing. "Oh, Mar," I said, "I think my fish is dead," and she matter of factly told me that I was sure he was dead one other time, but he wasn't. At the same time, I lifted the lid from the tank and suddenly, the filter just popped clear out of the water. I let out an ear piercing scream. Not sure why except that dead fish make me squeamish, and things shouldn't oughta be popping out of the water...that's kind of jarring. Mary said, "What???!!! Is he dead?" And I said, "Nah, he's swimming around." You know, only a true friend would respond, "Oh, good." Everyone else would have been making fun of me forever.
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