In the time honored tradition

of gin-soaked journalists everywhere, I decided to address the minor disappointment of the day by drinking! We went for Mexican food. I had sangria. J. is mixing screwdrivers now, using the vodka we have on hand for vanilla extract emergencies. Don't worry, it's the good stuff.
Then we are going ot watch movies we rented from the library.
In the big picture, this unexpected career move of mine is OK for a few reasons.

1. I don't have to cover Plan Commission anymore and can take Wednesday night bellydancing classes if I want to.
2. I get to do editor-stuff, which looks fabulous on a resume.
3. Larry, the business editor, is a Good Egg.
4. I could maybe be the cool kind of business reporter, the kind that does stories like you find on NPR's "Marketplace," the only business reporting show I can listen to, and actually admire.
5. Maybe I'd figure out how to better handle my investments.
6. I bet I'd look hot in a suit.
7. We'll probably reorganize again in six months.

So, all those things being equal, I've decided to allow myself the rest of the week to mope around and be miserable, then, back to work. I'm a professional, dammit.