Here you go

Work is hard. Work is fun, but it is very, very hard.
Lugging around 60 extra pounds for a cumulative five hours every day guarantees sore feet, an aching back, a huge appetite, a border-line gluttonous need for water, and an abysmal headache. Yet, it is the most rewarding job I have ever had. I am already excited for the five months ahead, knowing that my body will soon adjust to the long hours and physical strain. Also, being a roommate is hard. It is exciting, it is fun, it is love and happiness, but it is also very, very hard. Trying to take care of my girls because it's my maternal instinct kicked into high gear means that my roommate and I have trouble agreeing to cook for others while trying to make them understand that they need to pitch in food isn't an easy task. Still, I look forward to the months ahead because I've never felt so enveloped in a small community so quickly, and I already feel so incredibly close to these girls. We just made chocolate pancakes and french toast together. I'm so excited-- I think I'm going to my first visit in the parks tomorrow! Then again, that's if I can move in the morning. I'm not sure what my physical limit is, but I feel like I'm approaching it.

I feel like my day was all summed up in one encounter that happened in my 5th shift:
I had already eaten lunch two shifts before, and I only had two left before I could go home. My body was aching from the weight, and my head was pounding from my constricted headgear. I determinedly gallumped down to my greeting spot while repeating to myself "two more shifts, two more shifts...". It was halfway through my shift, and for some reason, I was having a lot of trouble gripping pens. I was having more and more trouble shaking off this frustration. Either the autograph book would be upside down, or the pen wouldn't be open, or the book would be on a used page, or the kid didn't understand that he had to hand me the items. I was spent. With every occurrence, I was becoming more aggravated. This aggravation was making me even hotter than I already was in my stuffy costume, and exaggerated every uncomfortable feeling. Itches were itchier, aches were achier, and my desire to just stop moving was growing. Then, this little girl who barely cleared my waist came up to me with her pink feathery pen and held out her book and pen for me. I grasped for the two and realized that my grip on the pen was awkward. While trying to switch it around, I dropped the beautiful pen onto the wet, dirty ground. I was so upset that I don't think I even stayed in character. Normally, I try to pick it up myself, but I just looked at it. Then, the little girl scooped down and picked up her beautiful pen, held it up to me, and said "It's okay, here you go," and kissed me on my nose before handing me her pretty, pink pen. After successfully signing her book and taking a picture, I gave her the most genuine hug I think I have given while I've been in Florida. My life is a compilation of analogies, and this one is perfect. Life is frustrating, life is hard, but there's always someone to offer consolation, encouragement, and help: "It's okay, here you go." I'm lucky enough to be basically surrounded by those people. So... thank you :) I'm pretty sure you all know who you are.