Ahhh, the first day of work. Kind of like the first day of kindergarten, minus the novelty, crayons and of course naptime.

To be honest, I had been dreading it. Cumulatively, I have phobias of journalism, work and newsrooms. I was like a ticking claustrophobic, stuffed in a ziplock baggie. I don't know how well that analogy works..

Anyway, prompt and nervous as always, I arrived forty-five minutes early. Jenni showed me around again, as I nodded like the little doggy in the window, forgetting everything she told me almost instantaneously. Well, almost everything - she must have mentioned the multiple fire escapes seven different times, as well as where to stand after we've just run for our lives - by the maroon car parked on the street (I hope that's a permanent fixture). After the tour, she got me started with a two and a half foot tall stack of newspapers. I was to go through every single page and pull out articles on jewellery, watches, retail economy, the publishing company and the birth announcements. Well, she didn't say to cut out the birth announcements. I just did because I LOVE THEM. Don't worry - I nonchalantly stuffed them in my pockets.

I went through papers for six hours. By the end of the day, my fingers were colored black with newsprint and I still had half the stack to go. I had also been moved twice at that point because they don't have a desk for me, so I wound up sitting on a couch facing a wall near the door. I am such a minion.

I had to leave early because I had a three-hour class. When I went to set down the remaining papers and turn in my special tools (err, scissors), Jenni said, "Did you think you could just leave without getting them done? You have to take them home." Inwardly, I knew she must be joking. Inwardly, my phobias were starting to explode like the fireworks on the fourth of July. After about 20 seconds of tense silence, Fran, another worker for the magazine, told her that she wasn't allowed to be mean to me on my first day. Please and thank you.

Overall, it was fine. Low stress. Tedious. I absorb everything that's written so it's hard for me to merely flip through pages of a newspaper. I want to read every last sentence. The good thing about this job is that I know every single story that has hit the London papers since August 25, so if you have a specific question, I can answer it from every newspaper's vantage point. I just don't like work, though. I hate working on a time schedule where I have to be somewhere from this time to this time (especially when the time in question is 8 hours a day). Just tell me what has to be done, I'll do it, and then I can leave. Otherwise, it feels like busy work.

There is a guy in my office named Ash. Actually, his real name is Ashley, but he goes by Ash as a nickname. He is the first live, breathing man that I've met with my name. Ash is one of the most obviously gay men I've ever met. He is obsessed with Liz Hurley and even decided to dress like her today. Jenni and Ash have this thing where they constantly mimick the publisher of the magazine by saying "hmmmmmmmm" in a really deep voice all the time. They made me practice, too.

We had our Mizzou class tonight with Clyde. It was actually pretty fun - as much as a three-hour seminar can be. We had a couple of breaks in between teaching and then with like 45 minutes to go, Clyde decided that we should all go on a walk. We stopped by a couple of pubs and then wandered around the Chelsea and Kensington areas.

When Katie and I got home, I decided to suck it up and do the dishes, since they very much runneth over. Dad, I know you will be proud to hear that. I'm still working on making my bed, but dirty dishes are a HUGE annoyance with me.

That's about it! I'm very sleepy from my hectic, professional day, and I should go to bed so I can do it all again tomorrow! Night!

P.S. Carly, you are an angel. Thank you so much for the letter!! My gosh, I barely knew my own address before your card arrived! I love you.