A real update

OK, I know I halfway-promised a real update to come last weekend, but better late than never, right?

I’m officially moved into my apartment-with-stained-glass-windows. The windows are ever so gorgeous, especially in the evenings. Unfortunately they still can’t tempt me to do dishes more than a couple times a week.

Mind you, the sink never truly overflows—it just gets full. That’s because it doesn’t take any dishes to eat a sandwich. And I like sandwiches.

I painted my bookcase this past weekend, probably part of the reason I didn’t actually sit down and write a blog post. It took more spray paint than I bargained on. See, I didn’t want to have to get that dumb spillable of black paint and a brush to paint the thing. I wanted something that would dry quick.

Well, spray paint dries quickly, but it takes an awful lot of coats to get the bookcase looking pretty. Took half the morning and a good bit of the afternoon. And a bike trip to Big Lots and a quick car trip to Wal-Mart in between laundry duties because I underestimated the amount of paint I’d need, or rather the amount of paint contained in a ten-ounce spray bottle. I now know it takes precisely 23 minutes to drive to Wal-Mart’s paint section and buy two cans of cheap black spray paint.

No, I did not physically drive into the Wal-Mart aisle. But it’s close enough to the auto section that I could have tried.

I’ve also learned that even slight breezes are a bear when you’re trying to spray-paint. My right arm was fairly dotted with tiny black specks—I looked like I’d broken out in some sort of medieval fever. And only half of it washed off by the next morning.

Needless to say, I wore long sleeves to work the next day.

Speaking of work—I’m learning my way around the streets sectioned off with two rivers that conjoin just past downtown. This little city should really be called something like Join, Indiana—doesn’t that sound like a curious place to live?—but no, the town’s founders had to go and name it after some famous Indian. I think it was an Indian, anyway.

So far, I’ve written a lot of the feature-y stories—the ones that make up the biggest part of the front page, with a photo and everything. Only I don’t take the photos here. There’s a photographer/paginator who does that for us, and poor guy, sometimes I end up springing a photo on him the last minute. I know he doesn’t like it, and I feel bad about it, but it just can’t be helped sometimes.

At least, not this early in the game. I’m still trying to figure out my own schedule and workflow. But I’m pretty proud of myself today: I knocked out three stories in eight hours. Not too shabby for being barely into my third week on the job.

As for the social life, well, if you know me you know it’s one of the things I have to work at most. But I’ve found a good church and they’ve welcomed me with open arms. I even remember some people’s names! There’s the church photographer and the 16-year-old girl who’s learning Spanish and the family who lives about eight minutes from my cousins. (I met the family tonight at a small group meeting. Three kids plus one very much on the way.)

There’s also the fourth-grade teacher in her first year at one of the local elementary schools. She and I are in the same place in life so I anticipate a bit of interaction… later on. Once she stops living at the school! Ah, but ‘tis the life of a first-year teacher.

And it’s about 9:30 p.m. my time. Wherever you are, go to bed. I’m tired.