This Hold Music? Way Classier

So, I'm back. No, really. No, really. Promise.

Because I have a better job. A new/old job. A not-for-a-corporation job.

I'm working for my dad's law office, again. A job I actually like, which is odd, considering. It's not that much different than everything else I've done since entering the workforce (including what I did here when I was a teenager, although I have a shitload more to do now that I can be trusted to type contracts and wills and things like that.)

I help the ladies with their computers. I word-check important stuff. I consolidate files and close them. I run the mail, send faxes, answer the phone.

I love my dad's office. I grew up there, in a way. My dad would park me downstairs with the typewriter and let me go to town. To this day, I love the sound of a typewriter, and totally want one so I can feel like Hemingway or Hunter S. Thompson, depending on what route to intoxication I've decided to traverse on any given day.

There used to be an awesome bookstore next to my dad's office, also, which is these many years defunct. They have a wedding-reception type gathering hall there now, which is nice; the building is historic and I'm lucky it's not dusty and empty like so many of the others on our side of the court square, but I miss "my" bookstore. Call me crazy.

So, yesterday was my birt'day, and tomorrow is my birt'day party. I spent my birthday basically eating everything in sight; I had beignets and cheese toast at ten a.m., a meat-and-three-style cheeseburger n'fries for lunch, celebratory office ice cream at three o'clock, and the traditional "the Parcemom makes stuffed potatoes and everything else the Parce likes to eat and we eat cake and have presents" birt'day throwdown at my mom's, plus postmortem cake at drum circle. It was a kick-ass birt'day.

This party is going to kick even MORE ass though. I was going through things today and realized that over thirty people have assured me they're going to be there. That's not even counting the folks who are iffy for child-care or work-related reasons.

I love my birt'day. Happy birt'day to me. And I'm back. Really. Pinky-swear.