It's quite a trick to type backwards.
New system, new computers, new style guide... there is a lot new and different about the work I'm doing. I wandered into a real minefield of a story on deadline last night and missed some things that I really should have cleaned up. I would like to blame it on fatigue, the sound of concrete saws on the floor immediately above my desk (they are remodeling the building) or jet lag, but whatever. It's not the way I wanted to end my first night.
On the other hand, my new co-workers took me out to the journalists' hangout here. And by that I mean bar, of course. Unlike the Billy Goat, where Chicago journalists drowned their sorrows and dreamed of drowning their editors, this place has a pool. And it's outside. I have truly wound up in a different world... a world full of British accents, dry humor (or humour, as I have to learn to spell it now) and $10 beers.