Well, I’m back. So are my typewriter monkeys, which is too bad. When they skipped town and scampered off to Florida a couple of weeks ago, I hoped they would run into alligators, like this:

If I were truly fortunate, I thought, they might even be eaten by alligators, like this:

Alas, my monkeys’ travels were alligator-free, and the wretched blighters have returned, swaying drunkenly and smelling of bananas, wet fur, and bourbon. I don’t know how they spent their two-week break, or how long it will be before they resume their favorite hobby of setting stuff on fire, but I won’t ask. When you’ve run a blog as long as I have, you learn to stop asking these kinds of questions.

I don’t actually pay my monkeys to set stuff on fire. In fact, I don’t actually pay them for anything. (Thanks again for the comic, JK!)

While my typewriter monkeys were doing God-knows-what in the American South, I spent much of my break from this blog attending CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) classes. Now I have only to finish up my final week in the kitchens of the nursing home where I work, and then I’ll begin CNA training in earnest, before taking a couple of state exams. Then, God willing, I’ll settle into my new role at the nursing home: taking care of old people.

Y’know, change is hard.

I used to think I like change, but I was wrong. I like variety. Change and variety are different things. Variety is a refreshing, temporary break from routine. Variety is a vacation, a road trip, or a new flavor of pie. By contrast, change destroys routine, only to remake it. Change is an exhausting rearrangement and relearning of routines. Change is moving, getting married, or switching jobs.

It was a change, albeit a really good one, when I left my old job to work at the nursing home. As awesome as it was to leave behind an awful workplace, the transition took effort. My current transition from Dish Washer Guy to Nurse Assistant Guy has already been challenging… and I’ve only just started.

For a person whose twenty-something years have been full of change, I’m not particularly good at it. I’m frequently surprised by how hard transitions are. At this point, I really should know what to expect, but change nearly always catches me off guard. Still, I’m learning—or so I like to think.

Change is hard, but I’m still here, so I suppose that counts for something. It will be nice to settle into comfortable consistency over the next few months. In the meantime, I’ll keep practicing my CNA skills: making beds, taking vital signs, and washing my hands with the frenzied desperation of Lady Macbeth. OUT, DAMNED SPOT! OUT, I SAY! (That’s a Shakespeare joke.)

I just heard glass breaking, and I can smell gasoline, so I had better see what my typewriter monkeys have done this time. Whatever the changes or challenges in your life, dear reader, I bid you Godspeed! TMTF will be back next time with its usual nonsense… I hope. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to remember where I left the fire extinguisher.