water runs dry

i can feel my blood pressure finally leveling off, my heart rate slowing down...even though the beverage i am currently drinking is technically a stimulant. i am in my happy place now, but i had to escape a deadly war zone and drive twenty minutes to get here...

i was already in a bitter mood when i walked into my front door this afternoon. it wasn’t the fact that i had worked eight hours but that i had received my first paycheck at the end of those eight hours and, well, enough said. someone forgot to add that extra zero. i rushed by my parents without saying hello and headed upstairs to change into sweats. then i went into the bathroom to “wash the day off,” or splash cool water on my face, something that never gave me the same satisfaction as it does now that i am a working girl. let me ask you this: have you ever positioned your head low in the bathroom sink, turned on the faucet, closed your eyes, and outstretched the palm of your hands only to realize a second later that no water is coming out? well, it’s a disconcerting feeling. “no water!?” i yelled in frustration. my mom had done it again: arranged for the water to be shut off in our townhouse before we actually were moved out of the house. i walked downstairs, royally pissed off, to face mom and dad. a war was erupting in our kitchen as my parents exchanged insults and excuses. i tried the best i could to silence out the crackling of bomb shells but that proved too difficult a task for me. besides, there was just so much to be upset about: no water, no television, no internet, and my mom had just finished off the last of the frozen peas. i guess now is a good time to also mention that our dryer is broken, so our upstairs resembles the alleyways in chinatown, san francisco. i took shelter in the corner of the kitchen and began to eat chocolate chip after chocolate chip (something i now realize i do when i am either stressed, dying of boredom, or apparently talking to my friend from home because i did that yesterday and polished off half a bag). anyways, at one point i told my dad to shut up, for which he quickly responded, “you tell me to shut up and you can move out”. talk about a weapon of mass destruction. i guess this is what it has come down to? i thought only live-in couples said this to one another...

well, after polishing off my lunch, i packed up my things and got the hell out of there. i’ve learned that sometimes the best thing to do is leave a family warzone, not stay and contribute to it. i don’t plan on returning until well after dark. when the dust has settled. and the water is turned back on.

recent developments

so the grandparents were just dropped off at the airport to return to their home in ithaca, new york. now it's just me and the parents once again. i have to admit though...i prefer to be the center of attention. it takes more chirping on my part to get what i want when there are other birds in the house. however, they don't spring for the good cheese and wine when it's just me around, so having company is great in that respect. the highlights of my grandparents visit would have to include me knocking their socks off when i set up an online show for them to watch on my computer, finding out that my dad had served them breakfast fixings on a baking sheet, and listening to my brother still quote "that's what she said" at the dinner table.

a wonderful discovery was made by my dad this afternoon. he was dropped off at the house so that he could catch the kick-off for the carolina game when... no t.v. signal. and on top of that, no internet connection. we both knew what had happened. my mom had prematurely canceled our cable and internet and had forgotten to re-schedule the date. my dad was furious. he had to control his anger though since my grandpa was reading in the adjacent room (thank god for that). i feel his pain, and i'm beginning to feel my own pain as the reality of the situation is slowly sinking in...no more coming home from work and relaxing in front of the television. no more checking my e-mail or perusing the internet when i feel like it. no more cake boss. this really blows. i feel like i could reasonably adjust to having either no cable or no internet for a while (i've done it before). but losing both? criminal. and i feel like the biggest 21st century pansy when i say that, but everyone has things in their lives that are hard to live without. for the remote huli tribe inhabiting the forests of papua new guinea, i'm guessing it's their ipod shuffles.

in other news, i'm eagerly awaiting word from two credit card companies that i applied to last week. since i've had a stable checking and savings account for years, i've always ignored the onslaught of credit card applications that have come my way, weary of the fine print that so many have fallen victim to. but my dad urged me to begin to build my own credit, so i met with a banker to discuss my options...the few that i have. apparently i can only be trusted with about 800 dollars. at least now i know what i'm worth. whether i'll be approved or declined to receive a credit card lies in the hands of some squirly man with a gut i suppose.

also, i am currently sipping on a medium house coffee with 2.5 sugar packets (i figure the larger size warrants a little more sugar) and moderately enjoying it!

also also, i have been rummaging through books that speak to our age group (like i promised) but i cannot reveal my findings just yet...need more time to give you a quality book report. patience is a virtue.

signing off from a deserted caribou coffee shop...

happy
thanksgiving!

an aerial shot of the goods. i contributed the cornbread, sweet potato pie souffle, and the drinking of the wine...more than i have ever contributed to a thanksgiving dinner. but out on the west coast, my sister made her very first pumpkin pie...you make me so proud!

slightly stoopid

my tuesday has been, well, challenging for several reasons. actually, stupid might be the more accurate word. let me tell you the four stupid things i did today:

first stupid thing: forgot my lunch in my car. this would normally not be a big deal had my mom not decided to surprise me this morning by accompanying me to work so that she could use the car later. family is in town for thanksgiving, so you know how that goes. oh yah, and my wallet was with my lunch...so i survived eight hours on coffee, a tear of bread, and the arm and leg of a small, gingerbread man.

second stupid thing: i spent the last couple hours at work shadowing someone at the register (so that i can be trained in more areas within the company...which means more hours, which means more money, which means i'm happy). during this time i spotted a girl sporting a unc field hockey shirt and, since reading the paper is my thing, i happened to know that her team had just clinched the national title. seeing this as a great opportunity to make a customer connection, i congratulated her championship status. then i proceeded to ask her if they knew who they were playing next. wtf? that was embarrassing.

third stupid thing: six hours into work with two remaining...my boss asks me if i have taken a break and, if not, that i can go ahead and take it now. i reply, "naw, i'm actually good." he asks me if i'm sure twice, then says that this will be my only break for the day. i assure him that i don't need one and go back to shadowing the cashier. "wow, that new girl...she really toughs it out for the good of the company!" hmm more like, "wow, that new girl...she really needs to sit down and eat something". note to self: unless i'm working in a corporate building with enough stories to successfully commit suicide off of, i don't think skipping breaks is going to impress anyone.

fourth stupid thing: the first thing i did when i got home was inhale some granola and yogurt and swap my work clothes for sweats. then i grabbed a cotton ball to cleanse my face...only what i thought was toner was actually nail polish remover. my face felt normal again after the initial burning sensation wore off.

and it's only just shy of 3:00 p.m.

just a spoon full of sugar

even though there is now less than seven hours standing between me and my future self driving to work at 5:10 in the piss-ass morning, i just wanted to tell you that my official two-a-day training started today! and no, i'm not talking about the true meaning of the phrase as it refers to athletes who must undergo two grueling workouts each day for an indiscriminate amount of time...i'm referring to my most recent "live a healthier lifestyle" undertaking, which is to cut back on my sugar intake. since sugar really is the devil (thank you author of skinny bitch), and since i will never, ever, no matter how hard i try, end my love affair with my sugary bff named chocolate (can you say m&m binging episodes?), i want to nix it from just my coffee routine alone.

the (oh-so-pretty) enemy?
sugar crystals.

the goal?
sugar-free java in two weeks!

the training regiment?
one week (starting today) of limiting myself to just two sugar packets per serving of coffee
then
one week (starting next monday) of limiting myself to just one sugar packet per serving of coffee

ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

not all those who wander are lost. -jrr tolkien

there are few things in life that bring us to a state of total complacency. for me, one of the ways in which i arrive at this peaceful place is by going on long walks. all it takes is a pair of running shoes, my ipod, and no time constraint whatsoever. that last element is essential because i can’t fully relax if i have to be somewhere in the near future. i park tj, my little red car, and hide the keys in some nearby bushes (stealth). the phone is left in the car because i like the idea of being inaccessible in a world of constant accessibility, even if it is for only a couple of hours. i stick those white iconic ear buds into my ears and begin walking. no course to follow. no plan of action. this is one of the rare moments in my life when i free myself from my obsession to plan ahead and let my surroundings do it for me instead.

last sunday afternoon was when i last took one of these walks. starting at a familiar coffee shop, i ventured downtown and then towards the unc campus. my mind wandered as my feet wandered across the academic quad, around the bell tower, and pass the football stadium. i became immersed in a herd of people (who i later realized were all headed towards the dean dome for a tar heel basketball game) walking towards unfamiliar territory. they lead me to an open courtyard encircled with brick buildings, one of which contained tables with oh-so familiar green umbrellas attached to them. any true java junkie would immediately know that a starbucks lurked ahead. so i left the herd in pursuit of this potential goldmine, and what i found was all i could hope for...including this comfy brown chair that i am currently sitting in, indian-style. plenty of space, plenty of outlets, and free internet access in a student-infested starbucks. what a perfect little place, i thought. the youthful and scholarly composition of the room gave me a sense of comfort reminiscent of my college days...without the ten-page paper due before thanksgiving break.

so for now, let me be a unc student among the rest of them. let me re-capture my memories perched at a table littered with books and papers. let me be a student once again, because sometimes i just miss being able to call myself one.

11.19.2009.

happy anniversary to me!

it has been six months since i woke up for the first time as a boomeranger in my parent's house. on that may summer day i really didn't foresee myself living here for as long as i have. but here i am...still picking up bananas, bread, and half-and-half at the market to bring home to my parents. still fighting for the rights to the downstairs television during that crucial 7-10p.m. time slot. and, miraculously, still happy to be saying "good morning" and "goodnight" to mom and dad. well, happy most of the time.

i wish i had started a mood chart for myself six months ago...it would likely resemble an EKG reading gone haywire. and if i had been enrolled in any type of clinical trial for the past half-year, i would've likely been diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder. "i'm not psychologically unstable!" i would have protested, "just confused, and lonely, and yes, i can become very upset one minute and turn angry the next, but that's normal, right!?" well i can't say for sure. i think the just-out-of-college segment of our population is being ignored. where in the literature can you find fellow twenty-somethings offering their reflections, thoughts, and advice on leaving the college bubble? book after book about "how to craft the perfect resume and land your dream job" just don't cut it. i've read that kind of cookie-cutter crap. they don't talk about how motivation, personal values, and relationships factor into the kind of person we think we want to be and the kind of person we really are. i mean, if you don't already know that you should probably remove your nose ring before attending an interview, then go and buy one of these books. waste your money.

so i basically just spent the last paragraph bashing career-related self-help books. i don't mean to say that there aren't some decent ones out there, i just think they are few and far between. a quality book that comes to mind is the one i have quoted several times in previous entries called, 20 something 20 everything: a quarter-life woman's guide to balance and direction.(sorry dudes). but that is simply not enough. in the coming weeks i am going to make it a personal mission to scour the shelves at borders for anything that speaks to what people my age are going through. if i'm going to make the claim that the literature sucks, i should be able to back it up. besides, i've been meaning to go to the bookstore so that i can read all the latest magazines free of charge...yah, i'm one of those people.

the butt-bag

hmmm, so where do i begin? i guess i could start by telling you that thanks to my recent employment status, i have now gained the rights to use the professional jargon that you folks take for granted. you know what i'm talking about...phrases like "i just got off work" and "i'll call you on my lunch break". i still feel funny every time these words leave my mouth. i must say that even though i've only "gone to work" for four days, the pressure and anxiety that followed me while i was trying to fill that void in my life has been lifted from my shoulders. whether i start my shift at 5:30 or 7:00 in the morning, by the time i'm done, most of the day is still waiting to be spent. i feel a new surge of accomplishment when it's only 2 o'clock and i already have eight hours of work under my belt (and i really do have to wear a belt). look at it this way: even if i come home from work and do nothing but lie down and stare at the ceiling before going to bed, i've still had a productive day. amazing.

one of the downsides to my early morning working schedule is that i can no longer spend the mornings partying with my parents. if you are confused by my choice of words, i am referring to the "parties" my family has in the a.m. that involve a ridiculously large pot of coffee, some sort of breakfast food, and the newspaper (you can refer to my previous entry i wrote in july called "let's have a party"). now that i have to report to work, our weekday parties have dwindled from three persons to two. and i think my absence makes a pretty big difference considering that it leaves two people who have already seen one another in the mornings for over twenty-five years-talk about been there, done that. what a self-centered child i am, you might be thinking...but i can prove to you that they have already begun to miss my presence.

exhibit a: saturday morning. you can taste the increased pressure in the room to make this weekend kick-off party a hit. when my mom and i leave the to putter around upstairs, my dad makes the comment that everyone is deserting the party too early.
exhibit b: sunday morning (today). i leave the comfort of my warm and toasty bed to investigate the sounds emanating from the kitchen (my mom is the antithesis of a quiet cook). there i discover that she is baking currant and almond muffins. she asks me not once, but twice whether i will be having a morning party here at the house. i assure her that i will stay her for a bit before heading out. we turn on some country music to entice my dad into coming down from upstairs.

see! they miss me. and i miss our parties too, but i don't miss NOT making money. no sir. and i think that having to wait for the weekend to have our morning ritual will make them that much more special.

so here's a reality bite: i am twenty-two years old and starting my first-ever work week tomorrow morning. that means waking up early five days in a row (gasp) and putting on a spiffy hat, apron, and this:



this is my name-tag. everyone working had to make one of these when they attended their initial orientation, but not everyone still wears theirs (after two months you graduate from laminated to metal i.d. tags). let me tell you that everyday last week at least one person commented on my name-tag. i got everything from "how long did that take you to make?" to "you are unique" to simply "i love your name tag!" apparently no one has ever strayed from the name-tag "status quo" of writing their name on a white backdrop. anyone who knows me would not be surprised that i reversed this tired color scheme. i mean it really pops, doesn't it? edgy but still classy, and no shirt underneath could possibly clash with it. brilliant. these people have no idea who they hired.

another reason why they should just get used to my brilliance: last friday i discovered a resourceful and creative way to sample the various breads the bakery makes. you see, loaves of fresh-out-of-the-oven bread are placed on a large rack to cool and be sliced by an employee. i was that employee on friday, and besides slicing and packaging the bread, i am instructed to throw out the end pieces, or “butts”. i cringed every time i had to throw perfectly good bread in the trash. that’s when i thought to myself, “hey, i’m going to save these butts so that i can sample them all later.” i began salvaging the pieces in a separate bag, the “butt bag”, or “bag of butts” if you prefer (i’m not sure which name conjures up the more pleasant mental image).

when i told my co-worker about it he asked if i was poor. seriously? i call it ingenious resourcefulness. the company’s trash is my treasure. besides, i’m one of those people who consider the ends to be the best part of the loaf, just as i think brownie edges are the best part of the brownie pan and muffin tops are the best part of the muffin.

i am reminded of a seinfeld episode where elaine and her boss start a new bakery that only sells the tops of muffins (top of the muffin to you!). they begin to accumulate a whole lot of muffin bottoms which elaine decides they should donate to a food shelter. to her dismay, the social worker gives her an ear-full about how insensitive and inhumane her “donation” is. needless to say, she refuses to accept the top-less muffins. now, i know that my work donates unused goods at the end of the day, but this excludes the butts of course. if donated, could bread butts meet the same ill fate as muffin bottoms did in the seinfeld episode? could they ever be a profitable product? i say we add the “butt bag” right beside the holiday bread and other packaged items. who’s with me!?

when in doubt, tell your manager.

so i had my first day of work today. There were definitely moments when i felt useless and dumb (i followed a co-worker around all morning like a puppy dog), but other times when i felt competent and strangely comfortable in my new environment. by the end of my eight-hour shift i was assembling boxes like it was my god-given talent (108 in all). let’s rewind though for a second...

...as i walked into work today i told myself that if i do everything completely wrong, let me at least learn as many names as possible. this objective made a lot of sense to me considering how people are just more welcoming and willing to help you out if you make the effort to learn their name. and since i am the new kid, i don’t want to give anyone any reason to not want to offer help if i need it. anyways, to aid my memory, i used some mnemonic devices. there’s “mini matt” and “wild will” to name a few (and by the way we love mini matt...he made me a mocha). no later than eleven o’clock did i realize that the process of learning people’s names can get a little tricky when working with certain foreign-born individuals...i thought that by calling one of my co-workers by the name written on his name-tag would be the safest bet, until doing so resulted in him shaking his head and turning the tag over to reveal his real name. this same gentlemen later asked me where my boyfriend was. not really knowing the answer myself, i simply replied that i didn’t know where my “novio” was. even though i’m a little afraid of what he could possibly ask me tomorrow, he is really staring to grow on me.

almost everything that i learned today was done by either listening to directions (katrina, you’re on break-take off your apron!) or by watching someone do a task and mimic their actions (fold the tissue paper like so and viola! a perfectly wrapped sandwich). i did, however, receive the pleasure of sitting at a computer and taking some online “courses” that the company created for its employees. these courses were auditory, interactive, and even contained short videos and “quizzes” at the end of each section. not a bad approach to try and engage my attention, but i had to laugh at some of the lessons. like how when you drop a knife you really shouldn’t try to catch it. just let it hit the floor. and don’t reach your arm into the bagel slicer for any reason. but what was really amusing was how many times the answer “tell your manager” appeared as the correct choice.

if there is a drunk customer, tell your manager.

if you suspect that a co-worker is taking drugs, tell your manager.

if you think there might be cross-contamination, tell your manager.

if there is any evidence of rodents, tell your manager.

if you are robbed, tell your-GOTCHA! actually, the correct answer would be to sit down by yourself and immediately start writing down what you remember from the incident. you shouldn’t talk to anyone during this time because he or she could cloud your recollection of an important detail. but hey, don’t be sad...after you get robbed and jot down what happened, then you should tell your manager.

it is very, VERY hard for me to give my parents any form of the silent treatment following an argument because i know with confidence that the silence will inevitably have to be broken in order for me to receive some kind of monetary handout. at this moment i am a great deal pissed off. pissed off with a brand new pair of khakis.

khakis and cupcakes

yesterday morning i awoke to my same old self; particularly, my unemployed same old self.

but my friends, today is the start of a new me...an EMPLOYED me. say hello to the new assistant caterer of a nationally acclaimed bakery-cafe franchise. and i will not just be working part-time but full-time...talk about going zero to sixty in a span of about three days (okay, so that doesn’t sound so good if you are still stuck on the car analogy, but hear me out). i literally met with my (now) boss on tuesday and received an offer by thursday. now that’s what i call a short and sweet courtship. we are officially dating, an item if you will, and i can’t tell you how excited i am for this relationship to begin! there is just one thing standing in my way...

khaki pants. that’s right. not jeans. not black or even gray attire. the official dress of my catering kind involves khaki pants and a white polo shirt. maybe if i grew up on the east coast i would have a plethora of these items lying around, but growing up in northern california, it was all about the casual look. torn jeans, skater shoes or reefs, t-shirts...nothing like what i witnessed during my freshman orientation at the private northeastern university which i attended. never before had i seen that much plaid and salmon colored attire outside of a jcrew catalog. in fact, i think if anyone had dared to wear pants stitched with tiny lobsters or crabs at my high school they would’ve been promptly beaten up in the parking lot. i digress. the point is that throughout these years i have successful averted the khaki kingdom and now i must join it. i really should’ve seen this coming though. khaki is really the only alternative to black when going for the “business casual” look. i’m just whining that i have to now go and purchase clothes for my job before i even start making money.

in lieu of my transition from unemployment to employment, my parents want to take me out to celebrate. i’m tempted to just nix the dinner and instead ask them to purchase a polo shirt for me but now i’m thinking that’s the wrong way to go. it’s not every day that you are around people who genuinely care about you enough to want to celebrate your successes in life. so i have decided to honor that by spending some time with my parents (as if we don't spend enough time together). i actually kicked-off the celebration stage by doing something wild and crazy last night: i baked. you see, i recently bought these adorable mini cupcake trays and baking cups and decided to bring out the baker in me. my mission was to successfully decorate my cupcakes using homemade frosting and spell out something like “hallelujah” on them to express my relief at landing a job. i even wanted to photograph my finished project and post it alongside this blog entry.

well, let me tell you: the whole decorating process is far more complicated to master than you would expect. just transferring the frosting from the bowl to the pastry bag was a gooey catastrophe. the consistency of the frosting was poor to begin with and losing volume with every stressful, passing minute. my cupcakes didn’t need face cream, they needed some fluffy flair! and because they were so small, i found out that i had to keep them in the baking pan so that they wouldn't be wobbly and tip over while i applied the frosting. to my disappointment, what started off as a blissful, celebratory experience resulted in absolute failure. we now have about forty-five abandoned and naked mini cupcakes sitting in the corner of our kitchen. this personal aspiration of mine will have to be tackled another day. proof that you shouldn’t underestimate anything “mini”.

(that’s what she said).

me.


the situation.



option number one.



option number two.

date

i sat at a nearby table, legs crossed, as i waited for him to arrive. nervousness and eagerness danced around in my head. any second now he would appear from behind the counter and start in my direction. i wonder if he was as anxious as i was to be on a blind date.
i perked up as i heard my name and immediately rose from my seat. his handshake was not too firm nor too flimsy-just right. although a little shorter than i am, i could tell within that first instant of holding his gaze that he was charming. and warm. and adorable.
he made me feel completely at ease, the words rolling off my tongue-smooth like butter. he complimented me on how organized i was and was impressed by my past achievements. we talked about what a wonderful place chapel hill is to live in. we learned that we both share a background in psychology, and also a preoccupation with making plans and checklists. he learned that i was a morning person and willing to get up at 5:30 a.m. if necessary. i asked him many questions about his job, like how he went about training new hires and expanding the business.
and then i asked him how many blind dates he had been on in the past few days...he said about four, but the way in which he downplayed them suggested to me that he wasn't all that interested in what they had to offer. so i took a reassuring breadth and silently prayed that i would be the one: the lucky one.
then we shook hands a second time and that's when i left my job interview.
? ? ? ?
they say that a job interview is like a first date (or vice versa)...that emotional and physical anticipation, the fear of being scrutinized, and the natural desire to want to measure up and impress the other person (even if you aren't a good match to begin with). sorry, but i felt i had to trick you in order to get this point across. besides the fact that my interviewer was actually a women and not a man (minor detail), everything i recounted from my "date" is true. i really like this girl, and the exciting part is, i think she likes me too! needless to say, i would really like to go on a second date. unfortunately, that decision is entirely up to her. so in the same way that i wouldn't want to jinx a potential relationship with a guy i was just getting to know, i am going to stop talking about this one. now.

more gushy details to come (i hope)!

i'll leave you with some humorous comparisons that i dug up from an article by janet white (jobdig.com)...keep in mind that the first question is something an employer would likely ask during an interview while the second question is it's equivalent in a date setting (a date that would surely end on a bad note).

• tell me about a time when you failed. why did you break off your last relationship?
• on the scale of one to ten, how would you rate yourself as an employee? on the scale of one to ten, how would you rate yourself as a lover?
• why should we hire you? why should i date you?
• tell me about that gap in your resume. tell me why you’ve been single for so long.
• how much did you earn in your last position? how much money do you have?

oh hell

if how you start your monday is any indication of how the rest of the week will go, i would like for someone to either shoot me with a tranquilizer gun repeatedly for the next six days or prescribe me a drug that will knock me out for the same duration.

i woke up early (early meaning basically anytime before 10 o’clock...unemployed boomerangers have no reason to get out of bed before then) this morning to make some follow-up calls to the places i applied to last week. my five calls pretty much yielded nothing. if you’re wondering why i made only five calls when i had mentioned previously that i applied to six companies, that’s because the sixth company explicitly told me that if i was a good match i would have received a call that same day...tear. i learned from my telethon that the managers at one business have decided to not hire new staff as they approach the holiday season (this makes a lot of sense considering how we americans don’t like to buy things, especially around thanksgiving or christmas). the events coordinator at the catering company i am interested in was unavailable (yet again) to speak and i am beginning to think that she doesn’t exist. i found out that another catering job requires me to submit a cover letter in addition to a resume which i now have to pull out of my ass. one of the bakeshops i am considering was simply not open today and the other took my name and number to be passed along to the owner when she got in. but get this: the owner’s name is katrina as well, which i think screws my chances because who would want to hire someone for their small company who shares the same name? i wouldn’t.

so that was a synopsis of the disappointing news relating to my job search, but now we get to the really painful part: sending one hundred and eighty-five of my dollars to the courthouse in lovely horry, south carolina. i was handed my first ever traffic ticket for speeding about a month ago. oh, and let’s not forget the five dollar fee on top of that for the bank issuing me a cashier’s check. thanks, wachovia...is that going to pay for a new bag of sad little lollipops you so generously offer your customers? i do have to say though that the bank clerk who assisted me was very kind and helpful. she had the honor of also serving as my notary. yes, that’s right. i had to have a complete stranger prove that i am who i say i am this morning. why? it’s all part of the joyful process of obtaining an authorized copy of your original birth certificate...if you happen to lose it...which i did...possibly in bermuda. anyways, without this document, you cannot prove that you were actually born to the dmv. they will not let you apply for a new license. a passport would do the trick, but guess what, mine’s expired! thus beginning another agonizing journey to obtain a valid document. are you starting to feel just a little bit sorry for me? well maybe this will do the trick: as if trying to find a job, get a passport and license, figure out how i am going to have health and dental insurance, and deal with my traffic ticket isn’t enough, i am also avoiding the library because i know i have overdue fines. i am guilty of tardiness in turning in my last cycle of books...and at a twenty-cent late fee per day per book, well...there’s just no telling what kind of trouble i am in. which brings me to an important question: if you die with unpaid library fines, who shoulders the burden? if there is such a thing as “library life insurance” out there, sign me up. i don’t want my grandkids to have to pay for my mistakes.