So now when I’m at work, all I can think about is what I really want to do with my life. It’s like I’ve opened some gate or whatever, and now all I can see are career options and all that adult stuff. What do I want to do with my adult life? The thing is…i don’t mind this job.

I’ve done SO much whining, and complaining, and all that. But it’s fine. Like, it’s really fine. Just the other day, one of the ladies I look after gave me a pair of colorful mens socks. She’d just knitted them for me, apparently because I always listen really well when she tellsknitting stories. It made sense to me as well, because I remember her talking about how she went to live in America for six years to learn from the weaver’s club or something, and how when she came back, she had enough skill to just knit socks and live off it. Her room is actually really cool, because all the ornaments are crocheted. She has teddies, people, animals, famous landmarks…all of them made from wool. And those are just the ones she’s kept, since she mostly gives away her work. She’s just…always knitting. Good a telling stories though, which is why I listen.

I dismissed them at first, all these stories I get from the elderly people. But they’re really cool once you listen in, and I guess I can see the wisdom now. Took me long enough.

Maybe I’m happy staying for a bit. After all, I have a cool pair of mens dress socks now that are the most comfortable thing I’ve ever owned. If nothing else, I’ll stay for the awesome footwear.