Tomorrow is my first day on my new job. I'll have to take The Hub's jeep because he has to haul a huge toilet which will only fit in the new jeep. He's all wound up about it

But thank God, I only have to drive 15 miles, not 50. So it's not that big a deal. Me driving the jeep, I mean. His plumbing job? Who knows?

I feel like I'll be returning to the land of the living....as if everything I did since March was unreal, or insubstantial, or a dream. I mean I know I made money on e-Bay and at WAM, in spite of having....

really bought a lot of inventory (or maybe because of having bought a lot of inventory) I taught the parrot to roll over and eat vegetables on a stick. I mastered the symptoms of the demylinating disease to the point where I can function as well as anybody else, through careful observation of the timing of my medications. I walked and talked and had phone conversations, went to auctions, fed animals, made meals, worked around the house as best I could, shipped e-Bay items, learned about postage rates, wrote and answered e-mails. I bought Winston a dog bed. I know what's in the Five Below store. I participated in conversations about politics, movies, photography, and whether or not Harry Potter is going to live. I lost 20 pounds. I wrote my resume, found a new job, negotiated a better start date for my new health insurance and vacation time, resigned my old job and bought appropriate clothing for the new one. I wrote 2 childrens' stories and half an article I plan to submit to Bird Talk magazine.

And yet, if you were to ask me what I did, I'd say "nothing."

Clearly, this workaholism thing - or at least basing my identity on a job outside the home - is not under control yet. Wonder why I didn't get that done? It wasn't like I was doing anything else. See?