A Lifetime of Scholarship

I began school around age 4, like most other preschoolers. I then proceeded to continue school until the age of 27, receiving assorted degrees. And then after I finally graduated, there was still the sticky issue of licensure. Not being licensed has relegated me to a not-yet-finished, student-like state of being. I must say I've been pretty good at studenthood: I know how to study, write, play nice, and use my inside voice. I also make excellent PB&J sandwiches.

I'm proud to say, however, that I am finally, finally done with all that. Today I passed my final licensing exam, which means that all that studying I've been doing all my life, and, in particular, for the last several months, paid off. Once I receive notice from the Board of Psychology and send them a fat check, I'll be licensed. Which means that I don't really need to study anything or go to classes for the rest of my life.

As God as my witness, I will never be graded again.

Unemployment Enjoyment

I have a confession to make.

I have a new motto. It's "Work is for Suckers!" Go ahead. Say it a few times. Let it roll off your tongue. Doesn't that sound nice?

I find that it sounds even nicer when I say it while watching one of the hundreds of channels the Comcast guy installed on Friday. And it sounds even better when I'm watching something the DVR recorded for me while I was asleep.

And it sounds best of all when I say it when I roll out of bed in the morning, unhurried because I don't have to be to work like everyone else marching down the street toward the subway.

Yeah, I know that this will all have to come to an end. Eventually I'll join the working minions.

Especially because I just found out that I passed my big licensing exam. With flying colors. This is a picture of all my flashcards that I have been studying (to the detriment of my own mental health) for months.


Here's a picture of me stepping on them after gleefully throwing them on the floor. I was thinking a ritual burning was in order, but I was afraid of setting fire to the apartment. So I recycled them instead.



Now I have one more test before I can be licensed and highly employable. Sure, it'll be nice to have the money. And to use my fancy, expensive degree. But I'll miss watching HGTV in the middle of the day.

And yes, this is my second consecutive post involving television. Wipe that look off your face, sucker, and get yourself to work.

My TV

When Todd and I moved to our new digs, we decided we were tired of the rabbit ears on our TV. So we sprung for cable, but only a little bit of it: The most basic, basic package. All it really seemed to get us is a bunch of Somerville and Cambridge public access channels (always entertaining), an extra PBS station, and NECN. And, best of all, My TV. This is the strangest channel: It features an odd collection of re-runs (right now I'm watching Frasier -- I'm not complaining) and what appear to be some "original" reality shows that I haven't yet dared watch. But the very best part is the weather man. During commercial breaks, he pops in to tell us all about the "stohms" approaching in his strange, squeaky voice. You can't really see his eyes for some reason -- maybe it's his bushy eyebrows. Or maybe it's a result of the poor lighting in this one-step-up from public access station. At any rate, it's hilarious. I look forward to the weather repoaht just so I can imitate his accent.

And I do love a good accent.

On Finishing

Yesterday, Dr. Bombay and I ran the Applefest Half-Marathon. It was hot -- it must have been somewhere around 80 degrees when we began running at 10 AM. In spite of the heat and the hilly course (which was not nearly as frightening as the race website made it out to be), we did not ride on the loser van.

I daresay we even had fun. We developed a passing formation: When we passed another runner, we would go around opposite sides of the person and meet again in front of the person. It was very dramatic. We also sang and pranced a bit. And chit-chatted the whole way through, even when going up hills. Which may have been a bit annoying to the other runners, but it definitely made those 13.1 miles pass by a bit faster. I even yelled at a spectator. He had his head hanging out of his car window and he craned around to stare at some woman's ass as she ran by. So I yelled "Don't look at her ass!" That was early in the race, and I was feeling peppy.

We also had our very own entourage: Yeti, who was our handler, and Todd and Dr. Shoe, who were our support and cheerleading staff.

And now, as if completing a half-marathon wasn't enough excitement for one week, this Thursday I take my big licensing exam. Let's hope that my anxiety about doing well (enough) on this exam proves to be as unfounded as my anxiety about finishing the race. (Maybe I should wear my finisher's medal to the test!)

I think I have a massage in my near future.