Grind

One of the best parts of my job is that I work from home. Working in publishing is a dream come true. I am that person who makes lists, because it feels oh-so-good to cross something off of it. On my less productive days my lists include brushing my teeth and straightening my hair. My more productive days include customer visits and order placing.

This time of year is particularly busy. I often need to remind myself that the late nights and weekends spent at work now are the one thing I don't love about my job. Doing this for a few months out of the year allows me the freedom of finishing my day at four every other month, and not having a commute home.

But for now, I will dream of the months where I can meet my best friend for breakfast at seven, and start my work day at eight. 

Bahston

East coast norms still catch me off guard.

My four years living out here have given me buzz word historical stories to lean on like a native “Yes, Abigail Adams, DID live in Weymouth,” I can tell you the quickest back route to 3A on a Friday afternoon, and I have a strong opinion on Mary Lou’s versus Dunkin Donuts. My Minnesotan nature is hard to lose. Inevitably, when I am being introduced, the introducee will make reference to how I am not from here. I am always okay with this.

After weekends like this, where we have multiple functions with my husbands (weird, that is the first time I typed that) coworkers, I find myself spending Sundays exhausted by my poser self that came out over the weekend. I think I even tried to drop a casual, wicked,  into a conversation. Even now, I have a hard time getting used to the aggressive advice giving, the blank stares as you smile at strangers, and the air of lviing in the best state in the US.

But damn, it sure is a pretty place to live.