It's been a long week.Without lapsing into a sea of complaints, I'll say this: right now, I'm overwhelmed and mentally exhausted. I knew going in to this job that there would be periods in which I simply wouldn't be able to cope with the tide of work, no matter how intelligently I planned my time or how many hours of overtime I put in. I'm sliding—fast—into one of those periods. I guessed rightly that it would be coming at the end of January, but I misjudged its strength and ferocity.

I think I understand why people stay, even though the pay's never going to be great and sometimes dealing with the public can really get to you. One of the last real conversations I had with Stephanie, months ago, touched on a subject that comes up in the lives of Engineers' Wives, and it hinged on a very simple idea: for most people, a job is just employment. There aren't many real, consuming professions left these days.

In life, there is a continuum between money and time. Most people, in order to make the amount of money they want to have in their lives, must sacrifice time. Those who want lots of time must give up money.

Money's good.
No time for writing.

Children spend years of their lives wondering, planning, dreaming of this moment. Adults ask the question before children are barely out of diapers: So, sonny, what do you want to be when you grow up? The adults find the answers cute, charming, and endlessly entertaining.My classmates and I were asked this question, once; our answers are printed in a sixth-grade yearbook that NONE OF YOU WILL EVER SEE.

Can I write here about what I see at work?

I need a little help here, guys. As we live in a post-Dooced era, I must make choices in what I say regarding where I spend my daytime hours. As such, I have decided that I will veil my discussions in a haze of deliberate obfuscation.

In other words, a certain place needs a name.

I've been offered several versions, but the two I like the best are:

1) "Isle of Aisles"—making us Aisleans?
2) "Land of Librios"—making us … ?