A few months ago, my boyfriend’s then-roommate brought home a package of toilet paper intended for consumers with children of the potty-training age. On the TP, spaced five or six sheets apart, were puppies in various jungle scenes. The idea was simple: children were to follow the paw prints that separated the dogs until they reached a puppy. Once the child tore at the puppy, he or she would have acquired roughly five sheets of toilet paper, an amount the manufacturers declared average for one wipe.
We three (my boyfriend, his roommate, and I) took to the training-paper immediately. We were nearing the end of our undergraduate careers with no set plans for the future. There was so much we wanted to do; there was so little we knew how to do. We imagined potty-trainers and we envied them. How confident they must be! we thought, sure to find a guide dog at the end of those paw prints.
There are no toiletries to guide the recent graduate. Nor is there a standard amount of time between graduation and “what I want to do with my life.” More and more graduates are pursuing temporary careers, putting law school, etc. on hold. I am no exception. I plan, eventually, to enroll in a graduate program and get my Ph.D in Literature, but not quite yet. This blog will serve as a record of my time in the paw prints.
We only had one appointment scheduled today, an eleven am massage. Of course it is 11:15 and the massage therapist scheduled is nowhere to be found. I called another of our massage therapists and she is on her way. I hope she gets here soon. The client has been here for about half an hour and I’ve run out of small talk so we’ve been sitting here in silence for the last ten minutes.
