Notes &
Ah, It’s a workaholics favorite time of the year—- the beginning of a new semester. New books. New professors. New challenges awaiting. While the new freshmen fret and panic, the workaholic is at home in this environment, eagerly waiting for that first steam whistle to blow, signifying a new beginning.
Then of course there are the classes themselves. And the professors. You always have that interesting blend of personalities. You have the professors who are just trying to be “The Cool One”, the ones that would much rather do anything besides teach a classroom full of undergraduates, the ones who care more about the class than you ever could, and of course (the favorite of the workaholic), the ones who scare you within an inch of your life on the first day, in the hopes that you might drop and open up a spot for a devoted waitlister.
After the first classes, the workaholic will trek to the bookstore. Not for books (those were ordered online months ago), but for school supplies. Clean, fresh, crisp school supplies. The intoxicating scent makes purchasing a must.
Finally, after all of the buzz and excitement, the workaholic slugs home. She takes off her crisply ironed skirt and blouse and crawls into bed, content with her work. And after all, she will do it again tomorrow
