Heigh-ho, heigh-ho! There's an announcement in here, yo!

Just a month ago, my husband was all like, "Go get a job, lazy bones," and I was all like:

But then I wanted to buy something, and the SandMan was all like, "Not with my money, Miss Thang," and then I was all like:

Then, I got a job, and I was all like:

Then, I got to my job (as a reporter at a good-sized daily newspaper), and I was all like:

And then, I actually started working my job, and I was all like:

No, seriously, I forgot how HARD work is.

It's like 9 AM hits, and I'm all like:

Mind you, my new job is fantastic. The people are fantastic. The actual work is fantastic. And the pay is... well, if not fantastic, then at least pretty damn good in the world of journalism.

But, working 40 hours is just HARD.

Especially when you've been out of the game for 4 years. Here I am, a journalist, and I'd forgotten AP style and turned in an article with Oxford commas. I was all like:

(Except for the boss part. My boss knew what she was doing.)

In all seriousness, Monday was glorious. It was the best first day I've ever had. But by Thursday, I was in tears on the drive home about how I'd never, ever, ever be a good journalist ever again in my whole entire life. And to top that off, I'd never, ever, ever be able to do it all.

How am I supposed to hold down a job? And go to school? And study for the GRE? And prepare grad school applications? And keep up with my diet because I need to get my body ready for having a baby? 

Oh, like how I just threw that last one in there? I'm not preggers. But I want to be. And the SandMan and I are going to start trying to have a little SandBaby. And yes, we're trying this against the odds of supposed infertility.* It should be a fun ride (and yes, there's a pun in that somewhere).

But back to me.

Nothing reduces you to tears like an editor saying that it's obvious that you've "been out of the game for awhile." And nothing elevates your mood like an editor reading your first story and saying, "Oooo! Good job." And nothing, and I do mean nothing, is more satisfying than being a newly-employed worker watching the clock hit 5 on a Friday.

In case you were wondering, I was all like:

But Monday's right around the corner, and I could be all like:

But I've decided that I got this. I can do my job. And I can do it well. I was born to write. (I think.) And I am awesome at school. And I've got this grad school thing in the bag. And this baby thing... well, we'll see.

In the meantime, I've decided to be all like:

So, I guess I'm done now. So, it's time to be all like:

*Don't worry, y'all. More will follow on this subject.