Ragusa

Overindulgence in chocolate is the main cause of my woes this evening. My stomach suffers a vague nauseous weighty feeling while the rest of me sinks idly into a sugar coma. Was I wrong to think it would  be a nice gesture to partake of one last portion of my rich Swiss Ragusa before heading off to bed early? All of this before joining the 9 to 5ers tomorrow at my first official employment in America since before the dawn of the economic crisis; all of this and a wrestling anxiety that something will go wrong at the ritzy Italian restaurant a few blocks shy of the White House with a  manager who bears a hint of mafiosi and vibes of vehement life force, along with a star chef of great notoriety and a history of lawsuits and financial mishaps. I shall be a hostess, meet and greet and seat and distribute menus and record reservations and take phone inquiries. How tough can that be?
Only time will tell. Can I hang on to the job and excel or will I be some sub par restaurant service worker and get kicked to the curb? Anywho, as the youth say nowadays, retail sucks and so does this economy and all the maleficent forces pulling its strings. Some more bright side: my tummy ache has dwindled, I am employed and I can't be fired for stacking and folding sweaters hors corporate norms. Stick it to the man! or woo-man!

Now I shall return to either the movie The Young Victoria or reading some seminal economists to try to figure out how it got this bad and where it might be going.

Goodnight D.C.