I’m reticent about posting about a job. Duh, wonder why.

But, nonetheless, I’m compulsive. Today, I made it here with a bit
more sleep. I also took three wrong turns within the building before
locating my desk. (Yesterday, I was mostly directed, so I managed the
interior, but I did miss the turn for the private road on which the
building is located.)

I suspect there will be many wrong turns before I’m through.

My heart attack last night was when my web stats showed two different
searches for my full name. One resolved to a Boston ISP, so that’s
probably not someone here. The other to the man with whom I’m living.
He likes to check on me.

I’m wicked a-scared that my secret life of weblogging will be
uncovered, and all of the kids here will know what a dork I am. My
writing is already tempered by the Cali mellow and distance from my
New England tormentors, though.

(I checked the employee manual and the Internet use policies are
apparently under construction.)

I’m trying to remember the other dork-a-licious topics to post about
in the perquisite vein, but I guess not enough free coffee.=20
(Actually, I could have partaken in free coffee at my last gig, but
the kitchen area was gross, and I would have had to then take shared
responsibility in bumming money from the director and purchasing the
coffee. Too much effort for generally poorly made java.)

By the way, here’s one little workplace universal — even if there is
a space age, sleek, silver dishwasher at arm’s reach, there will still
be dishes in the sink of any office kitchen area.