Day #1 at work can only be described by displaying a shot of my calendar, which has eight days filled out over the next few weeks already, promising more to come tomorrow.

I’d upload it but I’m too lazy to get out of bed and use a real computer or find out how to send it to Flickr from my phone.

Nothing much to say, only I now have to unlearn all my years of education in British English and past two years of magazine-writing in the same, to match the U.S. house style of my new work site.

This is a much, much larger deal to my minute capacity for change than it might appear.

In other news, there are still people who can’t find popular keys on the keyboard such as ‘any’:

SB: Can you fix my parents’ computer? They’re IT dummies and don’t know the next thing about technology.
Me: Okay. *tinkers for a while…* When this window shows up, you have to cancel it.
SB: Ohhh. Where’s the ‘cancel’ key?

Why is it only on the night you set out to sleep early, a million and one things get in the way? In my case, it’s a million and one e-mails that just had to be cleared, and so I did, knowing that they would haunt my dreams if I dared go to bed, neglecting them.

I want to sleep early tonight because tomorrow I start at my new workplace. Of course, I’m excited—doing nothing for sleep, either—and having taken a short rest inbetween both jobs, I feel ready to start. (But boy did the break whizz by in a flash, huh.)

In order not to appear completely green, I’ve separated my intended make-it-home belongings into two piles: the first absolutely crucial that I bring, like my rolodex, mug, pens and notebook; the second fairly crucial too, only I’m far too embarrassed to bring in, on the first day, a backrest, footstool, keyboard and mouse, bottles of loose tea leaves…and the list goes on for a while.

So it’s lucky pile #1 for tomorrow. Then I’ll sneak the other items in, eventually building up a workspace as cluttered as my last. Ahhh. Now, that’s home.