Still not adjusted to this new work schedule yet.

I walked out of the apartment at 9:15 this morning and took notice of the warm sun contrasting with the pleasantly cool fall-like air (not "fall air" because, as crotchety old Rich would say back at my old job, fall doesn't begin until Sept. 21). I walked to the corner and watched the traffic drive past and waited for the happy walk signal. Across the street, I looked ahead to the parking lot, searching out my car.

I stopped. "Oh, crap," I said to myself.

Then I turned around and walked back to the corner, looking back across the street at my car, parked not more than 30 paces from the front door of my building.

It's kind of like yesterday when I began my first full week here at The New Job and left my desk to go to the bathroom, panicking for a moment on my way there while I tried to remember the code for the door. Our offices are in a small building with a dozen or so other businesses (if that; maybe it's only six), with a few on each of the three floors. But we all have the code; it must be to keep out the riff-raff off the streets of Englewood Cliffs. Not that we get many street punks strolling down Sylvan Avenue by the Ferrari dealer. I chuckled, too, when it dawned on me that the code for the men's room is a simple three numbers in reverse order (such as 9-8-7), while the women's room code is three random numbers. They probably figured it would be easier for the men to remember it if the numbers were consecutive; reversing them is as secret as they decided to be. Or it's just a coincidence.

Today's the day when The New Job really took off. I've been busy nearly since I sat down at My Own Desk. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to turn on my funky new iMac (because the button's at the back of the bottom of the base). I felt like someone from an ancient tribe in the Amazon Basin trying to work a toaster. Once I fired it up, I began bookmarking some web pages (for personal and professional use) and then got down to business, fact-checking and researching and contemplating next week's fantasy football lineups.

The thing I like about this fact-checking gig is 1) I've re-learned how to do searches on nexis.com, 2) I learn random facts about famous people (Kelly Preston and John Travolta never refuse sex when the other wants it), and 3) I come across really weird sites during these searches. Such as, are there really that many people who look like Kenny Rogers? And there are guides to everything. Also, Leo is very protective of his name.

The only problem with the location of my desk (and we're told it's temporary -- as in a few weeks -- is that it's merely a table with three stacked drawers (the bottom is a file drawer) and an L-shaped table on my right. Across from that L sits Dylan, the research director, who's already proven to be a good conversationalist and tutor in the fine art of checking how lazy lazy writers are.

The best thing about getting into the swing of things is that the day just flies by. I'd intended to update this morning, but I got wrapped up in checking the facts on if Jada Pinkett Smith really smoothed over the relationship with Will's ex (she did).

So now I've got to finish my mini-dinner so I can leave at the stroke of 6:00 and Casey and I can make the 6:34 bus into the city.