I have nothing brilliant to say

The Bunny was working like a man at his new job but only being paid the wages of a boy, so he quit yesterday. It leaves more time for sex, which is tops in my opinion. It's nice getting our lives back in order after last week's chaotic dog baby adoption and this week's impending real estate events. I certainly have no delusions of unloading this place anytime soon, but I get restless when nothing is happening. My pro-active nature has rubbed off on the Bunny, who now likes to "make things happen." At least he has never uttered the words "get the ball rolling" or "at the end of the day."

In the midst of all of this routine-making, I got a message from a professor at my Alma mater. He said they were needing someone to teach some writing courses, and he thought of me. Before I even had time to consider my personal information that I passed along to him, my phone was ringing. (How many years did I waste wishing this place would call me?) Here I am with a house in the neighborhood, and all I ever wanted was a modest teaching position. Now that I am chalk full in my schedule and prepping for a class outside of my discipline and which I have never taught before, now that I am selling my house, finishing three more chapters, working my thighs back into shape, starting a graduate writing support group, and trying to make time for the most important person in my life--the Bunny--now they call.

I was thinking ahead to the coming Spring when I'll be without a teaching position at my current job and likely needing work, so against all rational thought, I agreed to meet with them Friday. Oddly enough, the professor that called--who is now the chair of the department--was not my biggest fan. Somehow, she's decided she likes me--that or she has forgotten my angst-faced, dirty jeans, mouthy Eliot-loving former self. If I could explain why these events always happen this way, I suppose I wouldn't have to wonder about God and the universe anymore, right?

The Bunny and I have decided to buy National Geographic heredity kits for one another. We were on the website last night perusing all of the glorious history of humankind. I felt like I was being privy to something ancient and remarkable. I barely felt worthy to enjoy this knowledge. It has been years since someone tried to inform me on the ways of the Easter Island inhabitants or the Viking warriors or the Incans, whose bloodline is clearly iterated in the face of a man that works at the Mexican restaurant out South. Bloodlines are a beautiful, mysterious thing.

I'm stalling, as it appears I've been doing for the last week. I hope all of this works itself out.