best. job. ever.

Having slept in dirty hostels or on the floor for the past several months, I have adapted and now find it rather difficult to sleep in real beds. They're just too comfortable, and somehow I can't waste such luxury on unconsciousness so I toss and turn all night. Fortunately the couch in my new apartment gets me to sleep; in fact it might do too good of a job since it renders homework rather difficult. For several nights in a row, I haven't even tried the bed, which has become nothing more than a storage area.
But before I discovered this about my new couch, I had a rough couple of days of exhaustion. Add to that the postnasal drip inherited from my roommate, a couple of headaches from my heavy hair that I was too lazy to straighten, and a literature class worse than death, and I wasn't exactly excited about life. 
Luckily for me, I have the best job in the world, a job that cures headaches better than Tylenol, cheers me up more than ice cream, and gets me more excited about life than really attractive young men. OK, maybe that last part was  little bit of an exaggeration, but I sure do love my job. Invariably, I leave having completely forgotten all my woes.
I love my job so much that I petitioned to make it my calling as well. The gospel teaching chair readily gave me the calling of Sunday School teacher when I asked, saying I was an answer to prayer since he didn't know who to call and was on a deadline. But I was prepared to beg and bribe. And it would have been worth it. I can't wait to teach tomorrow!