Forty minutes until my paternity leave begins, so I'm busy deleting voicemail ("Hi, my name is {Tom pushes the '7' on his phone and waits for the next message}") and recycling incriminating paperwork in the to-do pile on the assumption that it wouldn't still be in the to-do pile if it were all that important, and that patrons who really, really need something always call back. I have a funny story about the last time I left this office for longer than a week, but I'm afraid it will have to wait until I'm safely out of here for good, because it's that good a story. Patience is a virtue, Dear Reader, and who knows, you might not have to wait all that long after all. I was supposed to take a month of leave, but reduced it to two so as to hedge my bets with that other job. If they hire me, they need me to start on July 14th, so I can be a well-trained library ass before the boss goes on vacation in August, and it's usually considered bad form to give a two-week notice when you're on leave for a whole month. So I'll just make the best of the time I'll get with little Andriana, who's now thirteen and a half pounds and increasingly not-so-little. I hope the weather is nice, so she and I can take some nice long walks. The City of Peabody purchased an orchard and some farmland (it's called Brooksby Farm) that's less than a mile away from our townhouse. It's a real gem in the overdeveloped region we live in. Not that I'm complaining that I live within spitting distance of two malls, a Target, a Best Buy, and more chain restaurants than you can swing a deep-fried stick at, just that it's nice to be able to get out and enjoy Mother Nature a bit every once in a while. My wife and I used to live near the ocean, and it was hard to move away; this orchard softens the blow a bit.

Either that or we'll go fishing.