My ass has been kicked

Wow..take one "middle aged" woman that already works 60 hours a week, add an additional 8 hour day on her feet, bending, lifting and having to utilize brain cells and you get one whooped ass of a woman. By 7 last night I was having flash backs to my college drinking days where things would get jumbled in my head and nothing was making sense...ahhhh the memories. I tried to sit at the computer and do something worthwhile and absolutely nothing was happening. The darn screen just kept staring back at me. I finally realized that I had to use my fingers to make something happen and that was just entirely too much effort so I packed it in and went to bed to watch the "stars" on Dancing w/the Stars. (I have no idea who half of the people are...I think they are trying to resurrect some sagging careers-possibly). Actually I think I will like the new job...I have my own office area, it is comfortable, the people are great, the boss is full of compliments-which does give a newbie the urge to come back for a second day-and all in all, it is a good job. By noon it felt like I had been there forever. (not in a bad way, just in a comfortable way). Granted it was the first day, I am sure once I get more into the day to day details it will involve a little more thought but the work they have me doing right now is basic common sense, office management type stuff and it's a little like slipping on a pair of old slippers that had gotten pushed to the back of the closet that you found again by accident. So, two or three days a week I will be leaving the comfort of my holey crotched sweats, slipping on real woman clothes and going to work. OHHH...clothes. Speaking of clothes....I had to shop this weekend. I will just say that I AM NOT A SHOPPER. I really do not enjoy it. I find stores to be crowded with narrow aisles, clothes jammed on racks and confusing signs. Needless to say, I try to get in and get out as quickly as I can and when you have NO business clothes any more and you are basically starting from scratch it is a traumatic experience. I managed to come out with 4 pairs of pants, a few sweaters, tops, a couple bras, dress sox etc and it only cost me what my first check will hopefully cover. I guess that means that I am working my first two weeks for clothes....kinda like a hooker I guess.