Back to work.

Damn, the winter of 2007 was cold. Goddamn. I know because my TV only got a few stations, and the weather channel had the best graphics, and also because I worked at UPS as a driver helper. The job was physically straining, some of the drivers were, uh, strange (the one guy who hummed the riff to Seven Nation Army was a compelling figure), and enjoyable, because it so active. Plus, I got to peep into homes and offices to look for free cake during the holiday season.

Let the record show that I also look seriously attractive in brown pants.

Four years on, and I'm going back to the same position, albeit in a more temperate climate, and with some creakier joints. I haven't worked in a year, and I'm really eager to get back to activities, see parts of the city, and converse with somebody other than the voice in my head. I call him Spurnlock. Spunlock the Screamer.

In two weeks, I'll be the one delivering packages of holiday cheer, perched on a tiny, folding seat and listening to somebody hum the White Stripes (if I'm lucky.) And I am lucky. In many ways, I can't wait.