Can you help me spell that?

My weekends? They incorporate more business (I mean busy-ness, but I suppose business is apt as well) and bread-winning than average weekday. Sad but true. And they will only get worse, with no end in sight.

Manager at work (who I just found out is MY manager. Huh. I'm glad someone thought to tell me. There are oh, maybe seven managers. Mine left for another job in the company over a month ago. Apparently my new manager traded teams and got us.): "You're on the schedule for Saturday."

Me: "...Oh? Cause I work at my other job this Saturday."

[Lots of kerfuffel and negotiating occurs. Calendars are wielded.]

Manager: "Okay, so you'll work the other Saturdays here from now on."

Me: [trepidatiously, cause, you see, I have things planned already for most of my free Saturday afternoons, but he'd probably strangle me at this point if I told him that] "What time?"

Manager: "Eight to two."

Me: [having a sleep schedule heart attack while breathing a sigh of relief at the magic number 2, allowing me to continue aforementioned activities] "Okay."

I spent the weekend collecting. Overheard remarks, funny things kids do. There was Katy's little brother doing an elaborate interpretive dance to get out of his sweater in the middle of church. There was four-year-old Sarah winking at two-year-old David - with both eyes. There was 1st grade hipster Nick saying to his mom, "I'm not the kind of boy who likes to stand in the rain."

There was the girl at the library signing up for the game computer.

Coworker: "What's your name?"
Girl: "Rosemary."
Coworker: "Can you help me spell that?"
Girl: "C R O O T K"
Coworker: "Perfect."