Nobody died. That sits at the top of the three accomplishments I can be proud of looking back on my short stint as editor of The Evening Sun while Jeff Genung was on vacation.

The second: While it wasn’t always pretty, a newspaper managed to get published and delivered every day. Not bad for a guy who up until about two years ago didn’t know how to check his own e-mail account and, even now, can barely stay inside the lines when he takes a crack at his two-year-old niece’s Elmo coloring book.

The third: It took all I had, but I didn’t eat a single miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup out of the two-pound squirrel stash in my boss’ desk drawer. There was a lot of looking. A lot. But no touching.

But before I go breaking my arm patting myself on the back, I’d be lying if I didn’t give most of the credit to my co-workers in the newsroom, darkroom and pressroom. They saved my hide on more than one occasion.

However, before I get too down on myself, I’ll also point out that the editor’s seat is hot and often uncomfortable (In this case, my posterior configuration was not compatible with the groove in Jeff’s office chair, which made my butt feel like it was in an iron maiden all day).