I’m thankful for this job that I sometimes hate, and I’m even thankful for the opportunity to do twice as much work for the same rewards as a year ago. But oh, my, what did I get myself into?

The problem, one of many, is that there’s no one who can tell me in clear, understandable terms what I’m supposed to be doing. The instructions I’ve been getting only muddy the waters even more. Sometimes I can understand just enough to ask another question, which generates another incomprehensible answer. This cycle is starting to get a smidge vicious.

So I spent the last day before the long weekend going round and round over matters I’ve never had to deal with before, like real estate taxes and laundry supplies, electrical rates and lease agreement percentages. This is almost the end of our first month at The Kennel, and I’m all dizzy and stuff.

I’m fine as long as someone tells me exactly what to do. When they assume I know more than I do is when I start to get lost, and the deeper I get the harder it is to hack my way out. I find myself looking forward to six months from now, when I’ll either have a handle on all this or I’ll be living in a home dribbling soup down my chin. I hate wishing away the present for an uncertain future, but I can’t help it, just a little.

I am also supremely grateful for my family, and for the three small children who will make this holiday season a little more vivid. I won’t be caught wishing away these wonderful days of innocence, when a five-year-old can ask me if he can borrow my garbage can, because “it’s the same size as me.” He even instructed me to bring it over to his house Friday. I have no idea what he’s planning, but this is the third time he’s asked me about it.

Having a kindergartener in the family has also changed the way my walls are decorated. I didn’t have a turkey hanging above my desk last Thanksgiving. (And would someone point that poor scarecrow toward the bathroom? He obviously has an urgent need.)