And it will be clear if I wake up and you're still here

Other than me, there are only two people in the office today. I thought this job would be pretty decent, but I think it might slowly and silently kill me. Like mold. Or carbon monoxide. (Yes, I'm being dramatic. It's a literary device!) It's not just the perpetual lack of work, but the quotidian predictability. A daily routine for organizational purposes is one thing, but I just can't stand doing the same thing every day, having the same conversations, getting and giving the same answers to the same questions. The kids are fine, just like they were yesterday. The husbands are fine, too. Yes the oil spill is terrible. You had pasta for dinner? Oh, we love pasta. Are you looking forward to vacation? Oh, the Cape! We go every year too!

Every day!!!

I forget, being in my Hampshire bubble, that we really are pretty weird. This is what normal people are like. They work their office jobs, the name their cats Paws, they take talk incessantly about the weather. I'm sure they're all a little quirky, too, but it doesn't show in such a formulaic atmosphere, and like a true Hampshire kid I thrive off quirky.

I also thrive off food. Sammiches! (That was a smooth segue, no?)

In other news: I think this boy's a keeper. After fighting off my instinctual reaction of oh-dear-god-too-much-emotion, I have decided to just go with his unapologetic adoration of me. I wanted to say it was too much too fast, and to a lot of people it probably would be, but I think it'll be good for me to have someone who's so unreserved about his feelings. It's not some pathetic groveling worship, he just thinks I'm awesome, and he wants me to know that. It's nice.

Oh dear god, will I never stop sweating? Fucking summer.