3-Day 3-Way

This might be the first time in my adult life that I have really and truly appreciated Labor Day as a three-day weekend.  The first two years out of college, I worked in a high school, so Labor Day was bittersweet.  It heralded the impending return of the zombie horde, because the school year in New Jersey typically begins on the Wednesday after Labor Day (or is it Thursday?  Perhaps the PTSD from this time is interfering with my memory...).  It was like giving a wrongfully-accused death row prisoner a pile of cookies right before the execution.  Momentary pleasure preceding inhumane punishment. 

The year following this employment, I was a broke grad student.  I can't remember if I had already quit my job by that third post-collegiate Labor Day, but I was either unemployed or soon to be so, and one day off was as good as any other.  And the year after that, I was desperately unemployed in Idaho.  I would have paid someone to let me work at that point, so, yea, Labor Day wasn't much more than an excuse to drink a little bit more than usual on a Monday.  Although I probably had no idea what day it was at that point, so there's a good chance I was at the laundromat or just alternately blogging and wallowing in self pity for the majority of the day.

This year, however, I have been working for a solid month.  I know.  You don't even have to say it.  Sheeeeet.  A whole month.  I must be exhausted, right?  Because I don't need to do this for the next 30 years or anything.  Well, I am exhausted.  The one good thing about working in a public school is the schedule...at least... if you semi-don't care about your job and work the bare minimum of hours with no prep time before or after school.  I was in at 7:30 and out by 2:30.  Now I'm in at 8 and out at 5.  I've been mostly working out in the morning before work, so by the time I get home I'm ready for bed except I still have to make dinner, and then eat it, and preferably digest it and do some basic things to prevent my house from turning into a crack den full of cat hair and dirty clothes.  I really miss that extra two hours every day.  Although I shouldn't complain too much because I do thoroughly enjoy my job and the people are great, even when weird patrons ask me semi-inappropriate, non-library questions (like, "how tall are you?").

I think the original point of this post was probably just to let the internet know that we'll be in the Tetons for the weekend.  So if I never post again, you might want to alert the authorities to search for a female carcass covered in bear teethmarks.  Sorry, Mom.  Joke!  Totally a joke.  Because everyone knows bears love honey, so I'm just going to carry around a jarful to placate the bears.  Everything will be okay.

Also, I want everyone to know that I apparently have the body of a 9-year old boy, or at least, a very unfortunate 9-year old boy who happens to have a generous set of boobs but is otherwise totally androgenous.  I ordered some hiking pants (convertible 3 ways, from pants, to clam diggers, to shorts, if you care, because I sure do) on mega-sale from backcountry.com.  I ordered them YESTERDAY and they were on my porch this evening, because apparently the company is based out of Salt Lake.  But, I was unsure about what size to order, even based on the sizing chart (because who seriously whips out the measuring tape and jots down their waist, hip, and inseam measurements?).  Fortunately, these pants had a lot of customer reviews to guide me.  One dissatisfied customer wrote that "real women" should not buy these pants - only women built like 9-year old boys would fit in this style.  I took my best guess, and the pants fit like a dream.  For once, I don't feel like a miscreant for having no hips or ass (although I suspect I may regret that statement if I ever have a child and find that I'm physically incapable of shoving said kid out of said hips...sorry, is that an overshare?  It might be).

With that horrifying visual, I wish you all a fabulous weekend.  And I do mean fabulous.