Normalcy.

Well, normal for New Yorkers anyway.

That old cliche about New Yorkers never slowing down? It's completely true. Even the kids are always in a hurry, always doing something, needing to be busy.

But today we had a normal morning, with normal mild-sized tantrums and everyone leaving a few minutes later than intended, as normal.

I organized the storage room off the kitchen and the closet full of cleaning supplies that up until this point had been stacked by a blind person. Or maybe T.

I did normal things like laundry and ant killing. I even texted for a while in the one spot in the kitchen where such a thing is possible. T was in and out all day doing work and running errands. The kids had a half day at school so she went to get them and go play at a friends house, giving me more time to get some things done around here.

And I got them all done.

And I was thinking today that I really like my job. While T is not the same kind of person I am used to working for, or even being acquainted with, I think of all the ethnic Long Islanders I could have been stuck with, she is among the most down to earth and easy going. She goes out in stained sweats and only wears make up when she has to show a house. She plays on her front lawn barefoot with her kids. I would have never been able to picture that had I not seen it. She's going to continure to be hard to read and she's going to be more difficult to get along with than I am used to. But as far as people go, she's not the worst, and that's saying something.

I think most people are the worst.

For a people person, I'm not that much of a people person.

This afternoon I had a couple of hours to myself and I was able to do my own laundry, watch TV and play online a bit. I must say, that's my favorite perk to this job. I live at work so I can stop working whenever I want and have downtime, provided the kids are not crawling all over me. But hey, when have I not enjoyed that?

And for the record, I don't hate laundry with the fiery passion of a thousand suns anymore. My basement suite is RIGHT next to the two washers and two dryers and the cabinets full of soaps and the laundry sinks and the clothes line. The obsessive compulsive inside me has been grinning gleefully since load one. I can do everything right here in this room without having to run up and down flights of stairs or ask if anyone else is using the washer or if anyone has quarters. It's MY laundry room and I LOVE IT. I never thought I would say that.

I still don't iron though.