Working Girl

I rub at my tired eyes, checking the corners for crusties or eye boogers. It's almost 10 and I can finally succumb to the yawns that have followed me all afternoon. I'm beginning to understand that I'm not on a holiday from my largely solitary days, but rather have started a new chapter, one that promises to be long and fulfilling. I can't believe that it was only three days ago that I walked into Target Plaza South to pick up my temporary badge and file through security to the Business Analyst training room. I have a job. A real job. A good job. A job I already like. The months and months I spent writing and healing were amazing, but eventually I began to feel better and my calm turned into restlessness into guilt over not being productive in the way I wanted. Now I am, every day forward from this past Monday. I keep thinking to myself, oh, I'll do that tomorrow at home, but I don't have full days at home anymore. At least not during the week. I'm understanding that I need to remember how to be productive with my nights, fitting in a workout, dinner, some tv, Skyping with John, dishes and life maintenance before bedtime at ten pm. I'm learning. I'm tired, I feel a little behind with life, but I'm happy.