It May Be Years Until the Day

another dinner in the office. le sigh. my work is my boyfriend. my cat is my surly lover who complains when I come home late. streaming radio is my sanity and drug of choice. blogging is my dirty little secret. I know i'm not special. we all work hard, this much i know is true. you know what makes it all worth while? the segment that finally runs on cnbc or the feature story in businessweek (i'm projecting now, but you get it). I think that makes me dorky. I think i'm okay with that.

Feist says it best in her song Mushaboom:
But in the meantime I've got it hard
Second floor living without a yard
It may be years until the day
My dreams will match up with my pay