Oh, dear friends, I did warn you. It’s not a bad week, exactly, just a buttkicking one, fueled by coffee and antihistamines and sheer nerve. LuthorCorp has been putting me through my paces this week, but I have to admit that even though it’s not a follow-your-bliss job by any means, I did feel a brisk, nanny-like satisfaction at the amount of work I was able to get done today, how much disaster I was able to stave off. I felt like Mary Poppins, only without the nifty carpetbag.
But Jen, what about the paradise jelly? It’s coming, it’s coming, really, just as soon as I take a nice restorative soak in a hot spring somewhere. This one will do nicely.
Ah, that’s better.
On the way to my required-by-my-lease mental health professional’s office, I heard a snippet of conversation between two collegiate-looking youths. “Oh, yeah,” college boy said to college girl, “my parents are, like, giant conservatives.” I had visions of Boy’s parents, 500 feet tall, stomping around lower Manhattan, pulling the roof off of Cooper Union and making vaguely Godzilla-ish noises, dressed in huge, beautiful tweeds.