I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth. Okay, I do know wherefore, it's just a long story. Longtime PS readers will recall that part of my motivation for this little sabbatical, aside from the arrival of Gigi, was a need to take a break from my job for a little while. I was in desparate need of some perspective, and oh by the way I was stressed out of my mind.

I only have a few months left before I have to go back to work. Yes, have to. We went from DINK (dual income, no kids) to SITCOM (single income, tiny child, oppressive mortage) in a very short space of time. And it's not just the finances. Deep down, as much as I adore my daughter, I require conversation with real polysyllabic words on a daily basis.

So I see an office building on the horizon. The bad news is that I don't know where I'll be assigned. The good news is that I don't have to go back to work for the same person. The bad news is that my next assignment will be largely determined by whether or not I am awarded a promotion after my last assignment. Why is that bad news? Again, longtime PS readers will recall that administration and HR matters are not my prior boss's strong suit. In point of fact, my performance evaluation could have been written more accurately and to greater effect by a chimpanzee with cuneiform tablets and a crate of whisky.

So not only am I uncertain of the future, I am being haunted by the unpleasant past. Some time in the next two weeks I expect to hear from HR about whether I got promoted. I have a cautiously optimistic bottle of champagne in the fridge and a pessimistic bottle of tequila standing by. I just have to realize that there is nothing I can do about the situation; I just have to accept that it is in the hands of Higher Powers and I will know the result in due time.

And yes, this is one of those times where I find there are advantages to being married to a Red Sox fan. If you ever want to be with someone who understands wild mood swings, gnawing doubt, helplessness, and euphoria laced with the expectation of crushing defeat, but you can't afford their lithium prescriptions, just look around Red Sox Nation. Trust me on this.