I want you to know that I slept for eleven hours (oh blessed, blessed sleep) and then woke up without a sore back. I've only spent two nights on my new bed, and already I am in love with it. It's springy and comfortable and gives great back support. I can't wait to have sex on it. (Is that too much information?)

The reason for the burnout was, I think, all the testing and training I've been doing, and all the schedule-juggling I've had to do to make it work. But it paid off: I officially got hired as an SAT tutor!

I can't talk too much about the specifics here-- proprietary confidentiality or whatever. But I am excited. I think I'll be good at this job, and I think it's something I'll enjoy doing. It's definitely different from Starbucks-- different enough to make a good contrast.

I got my first batch of clients and I have been busily trying to call them and set up appointments. All this scheduling is a little stressful, especially since I am using a substandard planner. (I needed something, so I bought one that has turned out to be not quite exactly right.)

How is it that The Man makes about seventeen million billion planners, and none of them meet my planner needs? They're all too specific, or don't have an address book in the back, or have times that end at six p.m., or have all these large fonts and not enough room to write, or have lines. (I can't write on lines. They're too stifling.)

At any rate, juggling two jobs is going to be a challenge. (I don't even want to think about when school starts.) But I want to keep my Starbucks job for a lot of reasons: I like having a job that keeps me active and on my feet, I love my customers and co-workers, and I want to keep my medical and stock benefits. Also, it's a stable job, unlike tutoring, which is largely seasonal.

In the meantime, until the October SAT, life is going to be crazy. (And Journalcon happens to fall right before the October SAT, when I am going to be needing to see all my clients for last-minute prep work. Fabulous timing right there.) Bruce did it for a while; he worked three jobs. And I think he managed to have a social life too-- I need to ask him how the hell he did it.

I have a lot of priorities, though, all competing for my time. Two jobs, bike riding, socializing, grad school, my thesis. I can't really say that any of these is less important than the others, but something has gotta give. ("Keeping my apartment clean," has fallen off the radar, though, I have to tell you.)

I guess we'll see how it all pans out.

This weekend, I am going to Los Angeles for Ash's birthday. I am looking forward to the drive for some badly needed decompression time-- I will probably take the 101 along the coast and bring a camera and a notebook.

I'm also bringing my bike; it just occurred to me that I might be able to stop along the way for a quick ride along the coast. Wouldn't that be fantastic? I have to make sure I leave early enough to pull it off. (And pack and clean the night before, so I come home to an apartment that doesn't look like something out of Se7en.)

I plan to spend some time during the drive thinking about various boys.

For one thing, I am hoping to purge my brain of Ian-ness. It bothers me that it still bothers me, you know? It was such a short relationship. Why oh why do I still care? Why have I dreamed about him for the past three nights in a row? Last night I dreamed that he was in the bathtub at my parents' house. He moved over and indicated that I should get in next to him, so I did. Then we made small talk and soaked in the tub as the water got colder and colder.

And then there's Matt, who has popped back up in my life via little instant message windows and so forth. My instinct to want to be friends with my exes is, I think, going to bite me in the ass one of these days, and that's all I'm going to say about that.

And, you know, there's this guy.

Well, how's that for an exciting (yawn) entry? Well, if you want excitement, Athena had a baby today. And, since I just got out of the shower, here are some naked webcam pictures:

Insert quasi-pornographic caption here.

Please note that I tried to dye my hair red tonight. Operative word: tried. The name of the color is Really Red, but I think that's a misnomer. It should be called Not Even Remotely Red, because that's what color my hair is.

Anyway, I'll see you when I get back from L.A. I'll be sure to tell Joss Whedon you all said hi. (Don't I wish!)

"It's hard to explain, but it's really cute. It's her little bedtime ritual. And then Pigwidgeon panics and flaps around wildly and bangs up against the side of the cage for about 10 minutes. He can't figure out that he's supposed to sit still and go to sleep. That's because he's mentally defective."