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March 26, 2003
It's a job. It's work, as opposed to leisure. I wouldn't do it pro bono. After months of unemployment, it's a small shock to be working again, to dedicate a third of my life to structured, protracted tedium. But after months of grinding poverty and swirling debt, it feels splendid to have a job. It's near the river, so I have some time to catch up on my reading in the mornings. I'm riding the train toward an office cubicle; no one would accuse me of loafing. It's temporary – until April's end – but it's good pay, so it'll cushion me.