So I started my new job last Monday. I'm working in an ad agency a la McMahon & Tate from Bewitched. Full-service direct marketing and advertising. I can finally use that stupid piece of paper hanging on my wall. (No, not the picture of Lady Godiva. My Master's degree.)

The good news is that I'll have the chance to hone my writing and concepting skillz. The bad news is that I'm on the top floor of a 5-floor walk-up. The company owns the brownstone we're in, which is a lovely building, except when you have to walk down a flight of stairs just to go to the bathroom. Or down 3 flights of stairs to get a cup of coffee, or, god forbid, a glass of water. Of course, this will whittle my butt down to nothing by the summer, so I shouldn't bitch too much. I'll be a successful advertising copywriter with a hot ass. Things could be worse.

Unfortunately, I'm still at the stage of the game where I can't do anything personal at work, like check my home email or read or write blog entries and stuff. I don't even go to any websites other than the NY Times, USAToday, and CNN. Which is why it's taken me till now to write anything here. My hubby's at the Iron & Wine concert tonight, so it's just me and Bitey holding down the fort, which gives me a chance to update this thing.

Speaking of Bitey, I mean Jinx, we put our Xmas tree up yesterday, and she went berserk. We knew she would, but she went so crazy that she completely wore herself out. She didn't even bite us last night! She was exhausted from sniffing ornaments and chewing on the (fake) tree and pouncing on the tree skirt and being a cat in general. Tonight when I came home, I found an ornament in Peat's closet. My cat's a re-gifter. Sigh.