How much do I love thee? Let me count the ways

I don't know if the air in Massachusetts in cleaner and I'm able to think better, or if someone is smoking weed outside of my door every night or what. I LOVE my job. I don't want to jinx it, so someone knock on wood for me. So far, I love getting up every day and putting on my park service uniform and driving in rush hour traffic (it's only for like 5 minutes, but still) and greeting my fellow park rangers and putting up the enormous, gargantuan, titanic flag and opening up the Adams mansion. Maybe it's the fact that no one really bothers me to do anything except open up the house in the morning, give tours all day, and close the house at night. Maybe it's because everyone there is a history nerd and we get excited about this kind of stuff. Just today I was sitting at the table in the break room reading about John Quincy Adams' time of residence in the house. I learned that he, like his father, lined the basement doors and windows with seaweed to seal the house during the winter. As I was regaling this nugget of knowledge to my fellow guides, I noticed a sparkle in one of their eyes and a genuine appreciation and interest in what I had just told them. I'd like to think that I have developed a discernment between those feigning interest and those genuinely appreciative. I know it sounds corny, but it made my day. It reminds me of all the evenings and outings spent with my WNSC compadres during my chapter in Louisiana.