The past two days, I've been like a kid in a candy store. Picture this: you inhabit an office, no bigger than a bedroom, with a computer on a desk fashioned from two filing cabinets and a piece of hardwood, polished to a bright shine. Two tables behind you, one with a bookcase over it. The tables are loaded with equipment and other stuff, and the bookshelves are full of books that tell the same stuff about fifty different ways. This is our office at The Science Source. Me and Elizabeth, the indestructible duo that is us, working together and fulfilling our prophecy that our careers are bound together, that we will probably be stuck with one another. That's fine by me. Out on the loading dock, there are tons of stuff that physics majors go giddy over. Recording timers that pound a dot every 1/60 of a second, making an annoying buzzing noise. Slinkies. Masses. The kind of stuff we could play with forever, at our disposal. We are getting paid to play with this stuff. To see if the equipment in an apparatus will teach just what they want it to teach. And it still feels surreal. Like a dream, like the kind of dream that is interrupted by the buzz of the alarm and the cold water shock of 9:00 AM and the deafening monotony of life without innovation and release. But it's not a dream. It's a $10.50 an hour real dream and it's refreshing. It's the best I've felt in a long time, and it's showing. I sleep better. I smile going into work; I don't scowl. Shannon's noticed. Dad's noticed. It's so obvious it's scary, and that's the reason I feel like it's a dream: it's been a while since I've felt this good about what I do every day, and what I think about it when I come home. I suppose what makes me happiest is this: I've come to idolize Einstein, and Schrodinger, and Newton, like most physics majors do, not because of their contributions to our field, but because there is a subtle poetry in the footsteps they left behind. There's an art behind the formulas, the description, that is so eloquent I can't help but try to spread the wealth. When I go to work now, I am acting on the need that I've felt for so long now, through my years of college and the suffering and the mental anguish of sitting at a desk or standing at a whiteboard waiting for the revelations to come. It's all finally making its way to profit for me, and I've never enjoyed the feeling more. Here's where I work.