The Jobless Goddess

I’m getting a real kick out of my co-workers these days. I’m working with about a half dozen young women — young being the operative word. They’re all so freaking competent it kills me. They can write like it’s nobody’s business, they all take great photos to go with their stories, and they almost always laugh at my jokes. I call them ‘the girls.’ They’re either about to go to university, just leaving university, or all done with it and on their way. They do yoga and eat a lot of avocados. We live on Martha’s Vineyard and none of them know who John Belushi is but they all know they should keep using the same plastic cup for take out iced coffee over and over and over again. If they see a bug, they think twice before killing it. Actually they leave it for me to kill because they couldn’t possibly… and they know I won’t hesitate. We get along just fine the girls and me. Oh, there’s a little trouble when I insist on running the window air conditioner up in our second floor of