Work has been going well. So well, in fact, that I have little else to talk about. I work eight hours a day selling books to an even mix of smart people and people who are doing the right thing by buying a book. Sweet old ladies buy harlequin romance novels with covers that would make a sailor blush and titles made of randomly exciting words. Guys come in and buy four different gun magazines and they're always polite and well groomed, defying my stereotype of the average gun nut. I wander around helping people like Bruce Banner in the old Hulk TV series, except in a bookstore and I don't get big and green. I just get frustrated when I can't find the right place to shelve a book. It's a good thing, though, because I'm saving for grad school. Having a goal and cool co-workers make customer service so much better. So come on down to Barnes and Noble. We'll let you in out of the cold and sell you a book or a CD or a movie and a cup of coffee, and then send you on your way. Remember, you can't spell "Barnes and Noble" without "nesandno", which is probably a word for "good books" in some foreign language. Trust me on that one, I work in a book store.