Because Whiteboards don't make good Pillows

My hands are freezing.

The skin on my palms has turned ghost-white, and a numb ache starts to sear on the joints on my fingers as I punch in the keys. Guess that makes me a candidate for arthritis in the future then, although right now I’m more preoccupied with the current irony of my hands turning into popsicles while there’s a blazing-hot afternoon raging outside. That and I’m back at work again.

Last Friday night, Eph called and asked me if I needed a job. At any normal day I might have said no; I just got out of a job, and I’m not in a hurry to go back into another one anytime soon. Maybe it was because I was grappling with the concept of being broke again, or maybe it was the beta-blockers kicking in that made me say yes. Either way, three days later I find myself as a Creative Communications Officer for the Provincial Governor’s Environment and Eco-cultural Office. It’s probably the fastest hire that I’ve ever experienced, as I applied on Monday and went back in the game the next day. And it’s really not that hard; basically I’m just making press releases for the office to be distributed to the press. It’s really nothing I can’t handle compared to other articles I’ve made for the university paper, although they may not as critical nor as hard-hitting. And the turnout is relatively slow, with an average of one article per day. I usually get sidelined as errand boy or brochure illustrator during the downtimes, which tend to be a lot. Sometimes it even gets to a point where it’s so slow you just want to slump in the chair and doze off.

But then again, with the freezing temperatures in here that seems hardly possible.