Dear December, where have you been all my life? I've missed you more than I'd miss my own liver if it were traveling around the black market somewhere without me.
I'm pretty happy that you brought that really cool guy, snow, along with you. He's badass....for a guy and all.
Now, here's where I'm confused. Today is Wednesday. Tuesday, it was 50 degrees and rainy. By this morning, it was 23 and snowing, yet no one could figure out why their cars weren't stopping.
So, I'm going to risk sound really sappy here and say I may or may not love my job. I'm also going to risk sounding like an arrogent ass hole and say I may or may not be pretty damn good at it. What is my job, one might ask? Well, I could tell you I train wildabeasts to long divide and I save nuns, puppies and innocent children from flaming vehicles by day.....and by night I'm a ferris wheel mechanic with six wives and a knife-throwing act alongside the managerie.
Yes, I could easily say that....but it wouldn't be
entirely true. If I told you this, you might doubt it at first and then slowly begin to realize that was my OLD job. I rarely do those things these day.
You see, as of late, my boss and tax forms call me an editorial assistant. I tend to agree with them. Let me just tell you what I'm editing. It's a magazine. It's a
dog magazine. In the end, if you want a straight answer, I edit and design articles for three different dog publications.
An even shorter version is that it's my dream job. I guess that's all you really needed to know in the first place.
