Cheaper Than Therapy

I've decided to continue with the blog. Despite the fact only three people seem to read it, and only two people put in their two cents ((which was a split verdict by the way)) I'm going to forge ahead.

For me, blogging has almost become a form of therapy. It has helped me clear my head, stay accountable and actually come to grips with the life altering decision I made. I even discovered a word for it, burnout. I have burnout. But life in the restaurant biz is so far, so good. Sure I'm only four days into it, but I already know I am totally out of my comfort zone. Today rolling silverware reminded me of failing art at camp in 6th grade. I can't help but laugh at how horrible I am at basic skills. But I've never really needed to work with my hands before, outside of typing. As frustrating as that might be for someone else, Sunday I washed dishes while listening to the radio. What I didn't hear? Suicide calls, domestic violence calls, and nobody called me up to swear at me about what football game was on CBS. Like I told my mom today, it's just food. How pissed can people get? No FBI suspect's dad called me, no grieving parent threatened to sue over comments someone else wrote on a website. In that context, washing dishes felt like the best thing in the world. There was nowhere else I wanted to work.

So I'm going to continue to update my three readers about my new found simple life if for no other reason than I love to blog. Every. Single. Day.