Happy-happy, joy-joy.

On Tuesday, when my boss handed me a new pair of Mizuno running shoes and said, nonchalantly, "Here you go, Merry Christmas," I knew I'd died and gone to heaven. He just tossed the box at me. GAVE me a pair of running shoes. After he'd already tossed over a pack of DriFit running socks and a Brooks jacket with our store logo on the back.

"Well, you've gotta know this stuff to sell it," he says.

I might develop a stutter.

THIS IS THE BEST JOB EVER.

I just stare at running paraphernalia all day and dream of buying the new Nikes at cost and watch runners stroll in and out with the latest and greatest in running gear. My job description includes hanging out at local running club functions and helping out with local races and running local races (at no cost to me) while wearing running clothes with our store logo.

WHAT?

This is a job?!

Meanwhile, I move into my very own apartment on Saturday, which means the cats and I (and their poop) will get out of MOB's hair. I can't wait for my apartment. It's ginormous! What am I going to DO with all of that space besides flip cartwheels and host dance parties? O-M-G.

Being back in this city is perfection. I feel like I never left. Over the weekend I was running errands and as I walked into Walgreens my little, cold heart started doing somersaults because LOOK! I'M BACK! I love it here. It's so familiar and cozy.

I might just melt into a puddle.