Living the Dream

My first day of a big girl job apparel 

It's 7am and my alarm is going off. For the last several months, it'd be typical for me to roll out of bed around 9am or even as late as 11am. No longer. I get away with snoozing two to three times. Then. I HAVE to get up.

My hair is sticking up in all directions. The make-up I couldn't wash off my face last night attaches itself just under my sleep filled eyes. I snap my fingers twice to avoid talking for another few minutes, and Baxter and Kyla meet me at the door to go outside.

I shower, eat breakfast, debate on putting on make-up again, dress, pet the dogs, make sure I have everything: voice recorder, notebooks, pens, pictures of Baxter to put on my desk, wallet, keys, cell phone, etc, kiss the dogs goodbye, and then I'm out the door. Most mornings, I make one stop: the coffee shop, where I'll spend $2-$4 on either coffee or an iced caramel macciato. Usually by noon, I start shaking and forgetting how to make the letter "D".

My first day, I worked over ten hours. My second day was somewhere around 9. By day three, I passed out at 5pm and woke up at around 7:30pm. It's been a challenging and exhausting week, but it's been amazing to see this:

Two of these FRONT PAGE stories
are mine!

If your theory of Living the Dream is getting paid to write, I feel like I've made it. I work 40 hours a week. I get assigned articles, and get to cover ones I think are interesting. I get paid to write. Not to stock shelves, cash people out, get yelled at for ID people who look under age.

I feel like I'm on top of the world right now.

Just you know, a little tired.