One Step at a Time

Today I found out when my last day of work at Baskin Robbins is – exactly one week from now, I will be free of shift work. I have a mere two closing shifts, one day shift, and one eight hour shift left before I am a free woman.

Especially after tonight, having a light at the end of the tunnel is incredibly helpful. We were completely, utterly slammed, and I returned home burned in several places, sweaty, and caked in ice cream, hot fudge, and various other toppings. This was the kind of night where by the middle of it I was giving a 10% discount to customers that were friendly and nice.

I gave that discount once.


My body’s finally detoxed from some poor judgment over the last few days; I find it strange that after 19 years of horrible eating habits, eating semi-okay for a few weeks has completely changed what my body can handle. Monday I couldn’t fight off temptation and indulged in my one of my favorite fast food meals.

Funny thing though, after the first two or three bites, it really didn’t taste all that good. I’ve gotten spoiled with herbs and fresh produce. Even Jack looked apologetic.

"This won't have been worth it."

The next night at our communal meal we had this delicious – though super greasy – pizza, and I definitely ate more than I should have. The result was some sort of grease bomb released in my stomach that led me to become very good friends with the toilet the next morning.

At this point, it is actually easier and less painful to eat decently healthy food (even though I’m not perfect and grab a box of mac and cheese for dinner sometimes).

Post-Greasepocolypse I’d tacked on three pounds, which seemed strange, since that’s about 10,000 calories, and that seemed like a lot even for greasy horrible pizza. And then by this morniing it was gone again. It’s easy to peg my body as a simple machine [calories in – calories out = weight gain/loss] but sometimes it just confuses me.


It’s just a few short weeks before I head back to school (my birthday is just around the corner too), and I’ll be able to pay off the last of my fees and expenses once I cash my check. It’s a relief to have that taken care of, but I still don’t really want to go back.

Especially since I tweaked my program, I have to go back and do a couple basic classes. Ugh. To make matters worse, due to budgets or staffing or whatever, there are several classes in my major that are only taught by one person, and all of them are horrible, horrible teachers.

Why do people who want to be teachers end up with horrible teachers? I do not understand this. Some sort of object lesson maybe?

Other than that, my schedule has worked out quite nicely. Only 15 units (I have only had that few twice in my college career), with most everything stacked on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, though I had to fit a night class into Tuesday. Which is fine, since I have to be on campus for work anyway. I do miss the early days though, when I could finagle a seamless schedule with one or two days off a week.

There’s a little teeny part of me that wants to drop out and go be a baker. Or a small scale farmer. A massage therapist maybe. I could find some way to sell stuff I make. Or I could go teach English somewhere crazy.

Have I mentioned that I don’t want to go back?

Okay, fine. Chico’s a great school with a beautiful campus and a (mostly) fantastic teaching program. At least for now, I think this is what I want to do with my life.

But don’t misunderstand; I will bitch and complain for the next nine months.


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