I was in just the sort of mood tonight that, if I'd been feeling brave enough, I would have called the Brit and told him to meet me downtown at the fireworks. And maybe I would have even been brave enough to steer the conversation in a certain dangerous direction--hey, I said "maybe".
IF I'd been feeling brave enough. And IF I'd had his phone number, which I don't. Probably a very good thing--no use letting my brain write checks my mouth can't cash, or something.
(I did, though, e-mail him a copy of the book thus far--since he had to work today, I figured I'd give myself a one-day buffer zone between when he would read it and when I would next see him. We'll see what he thinks.)
Back to work tomorrow, and it's a two-supervisor day: Beverly AND Nancy (who the Brit and I have taken to calling "Socks", after I advanced the opinion that Nancy couldn't spout the party line any better if she were made of felt and had Beverly's hand up her ass.) I'm hoping to hear about Consolation-Prize Job this week...they asked for my references, so I'm hopeful.
I don't know if it is a real name or invented. But I think Gladys Cortez is a bloody marvelous name.
ReplyDeleteOkay, you must ask the Brit for his phone number post-haste! What if you should get Consolation-Prize Job...
ReplyDeleteGet his phone# before you leave for the new job. (I am secretly sending good vibes your way so you get the job!)
ReplyDeleteAnd, by all means, CALL HIM after you quit your job.