A: In front of an oven, piling in loaves faster than a coal-shoveling wretch coal in a Victorian-era locomotive. I have come home for Christmas. Yesterday was my birthday and the last day of my employment at the Great Harvest Bread Company. I am typing this on the tiny keyboard of my brother's laptop, as the network adapter in our family computer seems to have broken the moment I walked in the door.
Now I begin the great intellectual tasks which will someday put me on the same page as Plato, Einstein, Lewis Black: designing a syllabus for my RC course next semester, catching up on my research, and making my Mom sit through episodes of Twin Peaks as a kind of forced parent-child bonding experience (ah, how the tables have turned). I should also start brushing up on my Japanese, on the chance that the Powers will have mercy on me and deliver me unto that shining isle sometime next year, with money. I will try to post insightful comments about my progress as these tasks develop. Fortunately for you, dear readers, distractions in Newton are few.
Q:What am I going to do now?
A: Make another cup of tea.
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1 comment:
You know, when I think of bakers, I think of very merry people with rosy cheeks and smiling faces peppered with adorable little smudges of flour here and there. I do not think of a Victorian-era locomotive wretch. Something must be horribly, horribly amiss. I am glad you are not working for these people anymore.
And happy birthday (a few days late)! Hope it was a good one.
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