My last day of the old job was a week ago today, and not unlike the series finale of a long-running sitcom: old questions finally answered, a peek into a wonderful, promising future for the other characters, last walk out of the building with a box of lamps and framed photos and into my car on a sunny afternoon with a good song playing loud on the radio.
And then a cold dunk into reality– earlier mornings, empty refrigerator, downtown traffic, and slacks.
And now, I’m midway through my first week. Starting over, meeting people. Missing my little sisterhood across town. I’m wearing my nicest clothes on an average Wednesday and eating lunch in the kitchen by myself. I’m trying not to fuck up. Trying to find a succinct way to tell the story of how I came to be here, a social worker/ writer/ massage therapist.Trying to call people by their right names. Getting locked out of the building, locked in the bathroom. Making dorky jokes nobody gets. Sitting in a bare office. Freezing my ass off. Learning the ropes. And above all, fighting a constant inner doubt about whether or not I’m good at this, whether I’m going to be good at this, how long it’s going to take before it’s apparent to everyone that I’m not very good at this.
It’s not bad, it’s the first week. This just happens to be how I do first weeks.
In case you were wondering about Bird and her imaginary friend, Venture Adivans, I have an update for you. Venture Adivans is in the hospital. And also simultaneously living in Birdy’s tummy. And “HEY!” she points as she starts to climb into her car seat ALL BY HERSELF and becomes transfixed for the next ten minutes examining the warning labels stuck to the base of the seat. There’s a picture! of Venture Adivans! She is a baby in a car seat! And then what’s that? Oh, she’s NOT a baby? She’s a big girl. A very big girl. She’s Bird’s brother. And she hit someone today at school and that was WRONG CHOICES, VENTURE ADIVANS. Me-oh-my-oh, this Venture Adivans is a mystery.
Here’s a bonus tip for anyone starting a new job this week: Don’t eat black beans for dinner AND the next day’s lunch. Not only did I make that mistake yesterday and today, I went right ahead and had black beans in my tortilla soup tonight at dinner. Musical, indeed! Let’s make friends!
And finally, a product endorsement:
If your couch smells suspiciously like a dog’s ass (not that I would know anything about that), dig around and find $5.99 and get some of this.