First summer job?

Motel maid, when I was sixteen or seventeen. I lasted all of four days.

First summer job that I liked? Sorting lima beans on a conveyor belt at the Birds-Eye plant. It was a whole lot easier than making beds in marginally-air-conditioned motel rooms. My hands never stopped. Sometimes I got to sit on a stool. I could sing to my heart’s content and not be overheard by my co-workers along the conveyor belt. I went home hot, tired, sweaty, and supremely happy. And they paid me to show up. [The miracle is that I still like lima beans.]

Why has this bubbled up to the surface? Every month at work we can submit something for “inspiring stories”. Working at the Birds-Eye plant was my first happy work memory, but certainly not the last. I didn’t know it at the time, but FirstHubby was also working at the plant, on a different shift. I don’t remember if we met at the end of that summer, or the following year. But that is a whole ’nuther story.

Yesterday was a financially frustrating day. I’m still processing it, but Secondborn’s comments were definitely helpful, as was the time I spent at Knit Night. I have a lot to say, and no time to say it, so it will have to wait. But some of you worry if I skip a day. So this is me, waving hello with the hand that isn’t holding the new stealth project.

I’m alive and well, and there is dark chocolate in my cubby at work, and I am taking leftover mac and cheese to work for lunch today, and LittleBit is enrolled at the local college for fall.