One Week Down

Week one? Check.

I shouldn't have a countdown in my head, but the truth is I do. The semester started last Monday with my statistics class, and in my mind the start marked the beginning of being able to end it.

I feel like a little kid, I'm looking forward to Christmas so much.

However, I really am trying to take each day as it comes and enjoy it as it happens. This semester with all its busyness is more than something to get through.

Even if I'm taking classes that I wouldn't put on any favorite lists, at least work is tolerable. For the first time in my history of having a job, I don't wake up in the morning dreading that I have to go to work. Of course you won't catch me celebrating the dawn of a new work day, but at least the majority of the time the realization is "oh yeah, I'm working today," instead of "dang it all, I have to work."

Three weeks into working, it's still going well. Getting paid to wear an apron is making all of my dreams come true. Well, one of them. A very small one.

(A very, very, small one.)

For as difficult as it is, working with people is also extremely entertaining. It's amazing how many quirks and years of experiences people bring with them up to the counter to order, that you can see in just a couple minutes of interaction (not that I'm any Sherlock Holmes). For example, when I made a woman's "no foam" latte yesterday, she also requested I put a straw in it. Apparently, years ago she drove a ferry, and because of the waves the only way she could drink coffee without spilling it was through a straw. It's now a habit she can't break, even though she's a little self-conscious of it. We made quite the pair because I was self-conscious too. I am whenever I serve up an espresso drink because they are, quite bluntly, crap. I want to slap the person for ordering one and say, "Go to Soul Full! It's real there!"

Besides the espresso, everything else puts the "q" in quality and the "mm" in yummy. The amount of people who come through each day is testament to that fact. In my mind, rush hour is the second best time of the day because I'm constantly taking orders, serving and clearing, and am quite literally up to my elbows in ice cream.

The best time of the day is, of course, being done. Especially when I've worked a double and closed. Something about driving home at night, even though I'm sleepy, is thoroughly enjoyable. With the windows down, the cicadas add a nice chorus to the music coming through the speakers; add in the moonrise, or the stars—or just blackness—it's soothing. Soothing is good, because it's still weird driving north to get "home."

(All the memories...)

Routines are also good. From a morning cup of tea to an evening run, it all helps. Mikaela and I run together about once a week, and it reminded me that running with someone is actually not all that bad. Besides, Mik's stories that she tells me as we run make me laugh.

Stories are so much more fun when they do that.