Drum Roll, Please!!

DING DONG
THE LEECH IS GONE!!!

He took his stuff--nearly all of it, all the important stuff--and he SAYS he'll be back, but...eh.

The rest of his stuff--clearly stuff that doesn't mean shit to him, beat-up shoes and empty hangers and torn socks--is going in a bag in the basement.

I'm taking his room back. I've already put his cable box in Tim's room.

I am relieved. I will be more relieved Sunday night when the truck comes home. But in the meantime--he's gone. Finally, at last; he's gone.

Unemployment Month 2, Day 3

It's been a great deal of more-of-the-same here in Gladystopia; lots of resumes, a few interviews, and so far no job. I had an interview for a tech-writing position which I knew instantly I'd flubbed; the interviewer was asking me to explain how I would estimate how long a project would take, and I have no skills in that area whatsoever. I don't even know how to go about GETTING skills in that area; to my way of thinking, it goes something like this: someone gives me a task, tells me when they need it, and I get it done. Estimating a schedule...huh? I don't know if part of that is leftovers from Job-Before-Last, where every time I'd estimate something, my boss would change it and give me less time, then fuss when I wasn't done on her schedule; really, I think I just never learned to schedule like that. I'd also sent in a resume for a job I thought was absolutely MADE for me--a Mac tech lead, downtown Chicago, requesting all the skills I had--but when the agent sent my resume to the client, they said I wasn't senior enough. I disagree, but I'm not the one hiring.

There's light at the end of the tunnel, still; I have an interview tomorrow and one sometime next week. The next-week one is for a management position, which I don't really relish; and it's in the far northwest 'burbs, as well--no way do I want to make that commute!!! But according to the recruiter, they're really enthused about my resume. "Do they know I have ZERO management experience?" I asked him; he said apparently they're looking more for a tech who can manage than a manager who can do tech. Still--far northwest suburbs. If they really want me, they're going to have to come up off a LOAD of extra cash.

We're rapidly approaching the "beggars-can't-be-choosers" hour, however; my last severance check comes tomorrow, and then I have to start paying $300/month to COBRA my health insurance. (My test results came back, incidentally; I do have sleep apnea, and they want to start me on the CPAP machine. It's far from the worst thing they could have found, and I'm okay with it, as much as I can be okay with the thought of sleeping with a mask on my face.) I need a job, is the long and short of it; I'll be picky later, but right now I need a paycheck. I just wish someone would offer one!

Oh, and LJ is back. He called Saturday night and told me he'd be back Sunday night, so I picked him up at the train with his friend. He's been out pretty much ever since, but last night his friend stayed over, so instead of LJ sleeping in his own room, he slept in mine, which only just confirmed how much I like my own space. I will not miss this man a bit, when he goes. I think he sees this as The End as well; he's taking all his stuff, his PlayStation and his TV and his stereo, all his CDs and the rims for his Chevy. All the important stuff, in short. I heard him on the phone his first night home (his room shares a wall with the upstairs bath) and from the context, I'm fairly sure he was talking to some female. I was almost surprised by how utterly disinterested I was. This will be one of the more amicable breakups I've had. The only scary spot is that he's taking the truck back to Minnesota, to cart all his belongings; I don't think he'd do anything shady like not bring it back, but everyone around me seems not so sure. Mom, Tim, Dr. J, and Debbi have all said the same thing: "You're letting him use the truck???" Especially since nothing official has been said about breaking up, I don't think he's going to feel like he needs revenge, and the truck isn't worth much now anyway--it's got 160,000 miles and needs repairs. Of course, if he DOES try to keep the truck, I've informed everyone that I will accept any and all declarations of "I told you so," during pre-arranged hours. I just want him gone; this will make it easier for him to go.

Tim and I are still doing fine, though we had an actual argument last night. He was in a bad mood, and he started saying stuff just to get a rise out of me, and I decided I wasn't going to sit around and listen to it. So I went upstairs, and this morning when I came downstairs we both acted like nothing had happened; later on he told me "After I pissed you off last night, I sent myself to my room as punishment. I wanted to watch the game in the living room, but I sent myself to bed instead." I thought that was fairly cool--the fact that he acknowledged that he was being a butthead. (Which he so totally was.) He's depressed, I think, because he hasn't landed a job yet either. I empathize with THAT entirely, though I don't think I'm depressed about it. Nervous, yes; terrified, yeah, kinda. Depressed? Not really. All things considered, I'm fairly lucky. I'd like a job, sure, but things could be a lot, lot worse.

Unemployment Day Whatever: Blame It On the Tryptophan

I've been so busy enjoying all the things I'm thankful for, that I haven't taken the time to blog about them. If it wasn't for the sheer financial terror I'm verging on at the moment, I'd be probably the happiest I've been in years. I hate how much I love this unemployment thing, honestly--it just suits me TOO well. One more incentive to become a famous writer, I guess...

I have an interview Tuesday, for (of all things) a technical writing position. I'm hopeful, but not terribly hopeful; first, I have minimal experience; and second, it's in the financial sector, about which I know so little as to be almost laughable. But I -do- know how to write, so I'm hoping I can squeak my way through the door on that basis.

Other than that, it's been remarkably quiet on the job-search front, and though I'm sure at least SOME of that has to do with the holiday, it's still scary. My last severance check comes next week; then I have to COBRA my health insurance, for $300+ a month. That's scary, and I suddenly find myself understanding the whole health-care crisis a little better than I'd ever wanted to. I'd forego it if I dared, but I absolutely don't dare, especially with the probable need of a second sleep study in the next few weeks. This whole business of being human is a strain, I'll tell you. A body is a hard machine to have to maintain!

Nobody right now knows that more than Debbi, my friend who had the gastric-bypass; after a fairly-uneventful first three weeks of recovery, she went back into the hospital yesterday morning (yes, Thanksgiving morning!) because she couldn't keep any food or water down. Turns out she had some sort of blockage, probably related to the gastric bypass, and the last I heard she was going into surgery early this afternoon; I'm waiting for an update from Cowgirl on her condition. I saw her Wednesday, when I did her grocery shopping for her; aside from feeling nauseated, she seemed okay. Listening to her story, though, of everything leading up to and after the original surgery, I've decided that I will never allow myself to get to the point where I see that as my only option. My health right now is good, especially considering my weight, and I'd like to keep it that way.

In other news, the situation with Tim is going just fine. This is a lot like when we originally shared an apartment, back in 1999, when we had the studio together. We got along great, really, back then; it was only when CR came into the picture that things got screwed up. CR would tell Tim one thing, tell me something else, and carry tales back and forth, all the while making it nearly impossible for Tim and I to get together and compare what each of us was hearing from CR about the other. CR moved into the studio with us for the last six weeks we were there, and then the three of us got a 3-bedroom apartment together; that was when things really went downhill, and by the time that lease was up, Tim and I really weren't speaking. It was sad; since CR's been gone, Tim and I have talked at length about that time, and figured out how much instigating was being done, how many lies were being told to each of us. It was ridiculous--yet another reason to despise CR, which both Tim and I now do. I'd forgotten about the time in the studio, and how much fun we had there; it's good to be back in that kind of situation again.

Mom and I spent Thanksgiving with my dad's side of the family again, which was really nice as always. They're such fun, relaxed, inclusive, non-judgemental people, and even the ones I don't like that much are WORLDS better than the cousins on my mom's side. I didn't realize, though, til it was time to leave for dinner, that Tim had no plans for the holiday; after a short conference, Mom and I have tweaked our Christmas plans to include Tim. I'm impressed that she'd do that; she's impressed at what I'm doing. Even Mom and I have been getting along lately, which is a hell of a lot better than it used to be!

LJ called a few days ago, telling me he was coming home around the first of the month. THAT's going to be an interesting conversation; I still haven't told him that Tim's moved in, and LJ seems to think he's going to be staying here for a few days before he goes back. He may be in town for a few days, but I very much doubt he's going to be staying in THIS house! I'll be glad when that's over, once and for all, though it's opening another door I don't want opened; one of my neighbors, perceptive soul that he is, has noticed that LJ hasn't been around for a couple of months, and has started testing the waters to see if I'd be interested in something with him. Which...um, no. Really, no. In fact? HELL no. No more perpetually jobless men--that's my promise to myself.

I still miss JP. Thanksgiving is one of the hardest times of the year for thinking about him; even before we were officially together, we had Thanksgiving memories, from the year my old roomie and I had a full turkey-and-stuffing Thanksgiving dinner for our friends, in the apartment we shared when I met JP. He was there, I remember. And then our first Thanksgiving together, a few days after I'd left my mom's house, we sat in his mother's kitchen away from everyone else in the world, and we made chicken tacos together while our families gathered elsewhere, without us. We were all the family we needed, that year. I didn't know that our first Thanksgiving together would also be our last; a year later, I spent Thanksgiving in North Carolina with Firefly, because JP had died three weeks before and I couldn't bear to be in Chicago for another minute. My memories of those days--the days with JP, and even the first raw days of disbelief without him--are still sharp. Driving home last night, I heard a song on the radio which I remembered from that time, and I smiled a little; maybe it's a good sign that I can smile at all, when thinking about him. While I can't say I miss him less, I'm handling it a little better. I think about last Thanksgiving--I'd gone back onto the clinic the Wednesday of Thanksgiving week, after waking up dopesick and realizing how much trouble I was in, again...I'm most thankful that my life is different now. I'm thankful for the people who have stood by me through it all, and for the people who have made me smile in the meantime. I'm thankful for my cats, even though Snick is trying to make me insanely jealous by sleeping on Tim's bed instead of mine a couple of nights this week. I'm thankful for Tim, and Debbi, and Cowgirl, and Firefly, and all the people who are still a part of my life--often despite my best efforts. I'm realizing that I'm not always a very good friend; I lose touch with people, withdraw into my shell, miss enormous chunks of other peoples' lives. I've lost a lot of really great friends that way.

I'm thankful for the simple pleasures in life--purring cats, fleece blankets, a bowl of oatmeal. I'm thankful for cable TV, even when Comcast charges me an arm, a leg, and a fairly large number of toes for it. I'm thankful for my house--I could just write that a hundred times and it wouldn't even convey how grateful I am for this tumble-down slope-floored, peeling-walls place. I'll love it til the roof caves in on me (which could be sooner than later, but who knows?) I'm thankful for whatever made me the way I am, so that I can watch the hours of ads for things I supposedly can't live without and not be swayed into believing it. I'm thankful for whatever made me thankful, actually, because even THAT feels good. I'm thankful for antidepressants, methadone, friends, psychologists, blogs, and kittens, because all of them have had some hand in keeping me sane this year, and in getting me better. I'm thankful for, if slightly bewildered by, the fact that people seem to find my ramblings interesting; I don't get it, myself, but I certainly won't complain.

Mostly I'm thankful for my basic optimism and my belief that everything will eventually work out all right, because if I didn't have that, I'd feel a little bit more terrified right now than I actually am. And if I don't hear something in a few days, I'm going to go ahead and be terrified anyway. Cross your fingers, everyone...and have a turkey sammich for me, too. Did I mention that I'm thankful for you guys, too? Because I am, very much. I hope you all had a good holiday.

Should I Even Bother?

Is it even worth my time and energy to rant about TomKat? Does it even merit the expenditure of muscular motion to type out how ridiculous I find all the media attention? Or how utterly pathetic a woman must be, to allow herself to be diminished to the point where she finds the following "vows" an acceptable expression of lifetime committment:

Scientology's "traditional ceremony" includes such advice to the groom as:
"Now -----, girls need clothes and food and tender happiness and frills, a pan, a comb, perhaps a cat. All caprice if you will, but still they need them."

The bride is told: "Hear well, sweet -----, for promise binds. Young men are free and may forget. Remind him that you may have necessities and follies, too."

Am I misinterpreting that, or is it basically saying, "Honey, your man is probably gonna screw around, and you should just tell him off and then deal with it"?

Does anyone else want to bash their heads against the table repeatedly at the very thought of this??

Despite my own cynicism and unbelief, I am--and a lot of people will tell you this--respectful of other people's religions to the utmost. However, I have studied enough about Scientology to know that it was never conceived as a religion--at best, it was conceived as a theory of human communications--and that L. Ron Hubbard was known to have said that the best way to make a fortune was to found a religion. I know enough about Scientology to know that (at least to the higher-ups) it's a money-making scheme, and they actively recruit celebrities to give it the appearance of legitimacy. They have a "Celebrity Center", for Pete's sake. The celebrities have nothing negative to say about Scientology because they have only experienced the positives; they're given special treatment and privileges, and they're not sucked dry of all their money in the hope of learning the "secrets" of Scientology--and what "secrets" they are! That's a whole 'nother blog post--Xenu and e-meters and body thetans and Teegeeack and the rest--or you could just go to Operation Clambake and read that, because it's very interesting stuff.

They're like a train-wreck. I can't stand them, and yet it's so freakish and stupid and wrong that I can't turn my head, and I actually feel a sort of cultural guilt over this. I rationalize: I would never pay money to see a Tom Cruise movie, nor for...well, whatever Katie Holmes has ever done...nor would I ever buy a magazine or newspaper because they were on the cover--but I'll read the free stuff, the stuff that's on the front page, that I don't actually have to look for. The same is true of all celebrity crap, really--I won't pay for it, nor will I actively support it, but if it's there I'll look at it.

Does that seem as hypocritical as it feels?

Unemployment Day 21: Getting A Little Scared, Now...

I've been out of a job for three weeks today.

That's not a normal state of affairs for me. I've always found SOMETHING, except when I was an active addict--and often, even then! Usually when I've left one job, it's because I've had another one lined up. I've only got one more paycheck worth of severance left, and Thanksgiving is next week. I've only had three nibbles: the agency, the job I didn't get, and one yesterday which sounds like it's WAY over my head. This isn't looking good, and I'm getting kinda scared.

But honestly, that's about the ONLY thing wrong right now. I think this situation with Tim is going to work out just fine. This is the first chance I've had to be alone and use the computer since he moved in; either he's on the computer, or we're working on something together. (He doesn't know about the blog, I don't think, and I'd like to keep it that way.) We've spent the last couple of days moving furniture from the apartment he was occupying with a friend of his; the friend skipped town and left a bunch of stuff behind (along with an $1900 bill for unpaid back rent and a five-day notice to vacate, which came BEFORE Tim went to jail!) Tim finally got a hold of him, and he told Tim to take what he wanted from the apartment, so we made a few trips and took a couple of bookcases, some coffee tables, a chair, assorted books, and--the hard part--a full-sized mattress and box-spring set and bedframe. This, of course, necessitated a trip to the hardware store to get rope to tie the mattress to the roof of the truck; and any trip to the hardware store necessitates at least an hour of looking around, at least for me. Tim tried to drag me out, but to no avail.

The best part about it was, Tim did all the work. I mean, he flatly refused all my offers of help; he did all the lifting, pulling, dragging, and shoving, at both ends of the project. Then together we cleaned out the back bedroom of all the random items which had accumulated there, moved some things upstairs and some things around the rest of the house, and he set up his bedroom exactly as he wanted it. Then he cleaned the rest of the house and ran a cable to the table we'd moved the computer to. He's a neat-freak, as well; the floors are swept daily, the catboxes scooped, the garbage taken out, the dishes washed. He doesn't do all of it--we take turns--but having someone else around has sort of shamed me into neat-freakitude myself, which I like. It's great. It's not perfect--I worry about his drinking and the fact that he smokes, though not often--and he's a bit of a chatterbox sometimes. But these are very, very small irritations. I'm glad he's around, really, and he's glad to be here.

In other news, my blood tests came back. Everything is apparently normal, with the slight exception of two: One is my glucose; apparently less than 100 is normal, and mine was 106; and the other is my cholesterol, which was 216. Neither of these is the end of the world, and both are controllable, but unfortunately neither of them explains why I can't keep my damn eyes open some days. My sleep study is Saturday night; from what Debbi's told me, they're quite an adventure. I'm just hoping they'll give me some idea of what's happening.

Even with the job still up in the air, I feel like things are coming together. I do wish the thing with LJ was completely finished, though; I'm not looking forward to that conversation, but it's got to be had. I wish it was behind me instead of ahead of me. Having that hanging over my head is distracting me from how much my life has improved, and frankly, I don't want to be distracted from that. Thanksgiving is next week, and I've got quite a lot to be thankful for.

Unemployment Day 17: Yeah, This Will Work...

Tim got out of jail Thursday night. Friday morning I went to his friend's house to pick him up, and so he's spent the last couple of nights sleeping on his sofa and helping me clear out what's going to be his new room. And so far, this is working out just fine.

See, THIS is what living with someone should be like, even platonically: we TALK. We act goofy together. I can ask him to do something and get a verbal answer AND have the task accomplished--not just an eye-roll and a question of whether or not it will actually get done. We actually ate dinner together tonight, sitting at a table--something LJ and I have never actually done. (We've eaten at the same time, LJ and I, but always at the coffee table in front of the TV.) It was very cool. And when I get tired of talking, I can go upstairs and do what I want. There's no pressure of feeling like I have to be at someone's beck and call. He can keep himself entertained, and I can keep myself entertained.

Of course, tonight would be the night that LJ would call and tell me he's thinking about coming back to Chicago and staying a while. Not being one to break up over the phone, I didn't tell him that he'll be staying somewhere else--apparently he didn't pick up on the subtext of our last discussion. Oh well--I'm over it. This life I have right now (with the large and frightening exception of the job situation) is so much more the life that I want than the not-even-a-life I had when LJ was around...

Yeah, I think this is gonna work out just fine.

Unemployment Day 15: Asshats and Bad News

I suppose I should grant the folks at Interview #2 (the job I really wanted) at least this: they were prompt and polite. I interviewed Wednesday and I got the rejection letter today, so I'm thinking they mailed it out immediately after the interview.

...which I thought went so WELL!

Where getting fired rattled me not at all, not getting this job has managed to shake my confidence rather thoroughly. The main reason it worries me is, I had EXACTLY the skill-set they were looking for, to a T...so whatever motivated them not to hire me was most likely a personality issue. THAT scares the hell out of me. It's very easy for me to get employers to like me...or at least, it WAS. I'm worried now.

I signed the waiver from the last job today, as well...I went to the office to drop it off--per the instructions given to me on the last day: "Just drop it off up front and have the receptionist let someone from H.R. know that you're here"--and as advertised, the receptionist called H.R. She had to call several times before she found anyone, but finally one of the H.R. assistants came out and said "Dick will be with you in a minute."

Well, apparently "a minute" is malleable in HR time--because Dick didn't show up for nearly twenty minutes. During that time one of my old co-workers, with whom I'd been fairly close, walked past me and barely acknowledged me. Thinking she hadn't seen me, I said "Hey, Sue!" She glanced at me. "Oh, hey Gladys," she said, and kept going. It was very odd. Later, a couple of the users whose computers I'd worked on passed by, and they stopped and talked and were very surprised to hear that I'm no longer working there. They wished me luck and everything, which made Sue's reaction seem even odder.

Dick showed up a few minutes later and signed his space on the waiver, and handed it over to me. That was that, and yet somehow he still managed to be an asshelmet about it. Subtle asshelmetry is the worst kind, if you ask me.

Then I got home and that delicious little rejection letter was waiting for me. So all in all, it has been a very not-so-fucking-nice day in Gladystopia, and...Well, actually there is no "and". It just...sucks, is all.

Unemployment, Day....er, Night...um...Day 14? I Think...

I am a wee bit foggy today.

One of two things has happened, or a piece of each: either I was WAY more tense about those interviews than I thought, or my allergies/a cold have laid me low...but I woke up at 4 this afternoon. I'm snerking and honking and occasionally sneezing out major organ systems, and I have a rabid howler-monkey of a headache. I think it's just allergies, but...yuck anyway. I keep telling myself I need to buy a humidifier for my room, and then it never seems to get bought. I think that may change shortly, because this is no fun.

No news on the job front, which is to be expected...I did send thank-you notes to everyone I interviewed with yesterday, so I am serene in the knowledge that I've done everything possible.

Having said that...I'm enjoying this "vacation". When I went from Place Where I Used To Work Before This Last One to Place That Fired Me, I didn't give myself any time off at all--I put in my last day on a Friday and started the new job the following Monday. It's nice to sleep in and spend my time doing what I want. I think I'd get bored and neurotic if it continued--to say nothing of "broke"!--but for a couple of weeks, it's nice.

On a totally unrelated note: Does anyone else remember when EVERYTHING that was good on television was on Thursday night? I can't even resort to Discovery Health or CourtTV tonight--they've got their pregnancy block and their Movie of the Week, respectively. Blecccch. This has been the pattern EVERY Thursday lately--nothing at all to watch. Ah, well. Guess I'll crochet or something....(she said, knowing full well that the furthest she would get from the computer chair for the next couple of hours would be the bathroom or the fridge...)

Unemployment Day 13, Continued: Satan Has Reinforced Toes

Okay, first the important stuff: The interview went well. I'm especially entertained, in a foreboding sort of way, by the fact that this company's next-door neighbor is a sleep specialist. But seriously--all my skills seemed to fit well.

Which cannot be said for my pantyhose.

Guys, you will never understand this, just as we women will never understand a sharp kick to the nuts. But if you've ever walked over a mile in pantyhose that are not only a half-size too small, but also twisted so that they bind exactly at the midpoint of the fleshy part of the thigh...honey, that's some PAIN. To say nothing of the sensibly interview-y shoes I wore, not taking into account the possibility that I would have to walk to the "nearest" (translation--eleven blocks away) branch of my bank, so I could deposit a check so I could get enough cash to liberate my car from the Nightmare Parking Garage of the Damned...Parking should not cost $24. Ever. Anywhere. ESPECIALLY not for 90 minutes. That ain't right.

I'm the third person they've interviewed. I'm fairly hopeful.

I'm also very tired and my feet hurt like hell. So I'm going to take a nap now.

Thank you all for all of your support! Keep up the good thoughts, and hopefully I'll have a job in a few days.

Unemployment Day 13: Step Away From The Donut.

Observations while killing time between interviews:

Clearly it's been a while since I job-hunted. My Interview Dress is decidedly snug. Maybe that's got something to do with the obscene number of Krispy Kremes I've consumed lately, but it's their fault--they keep giving me the game cards, and I keep winning a free dozen. So I absolve myself from all responsibility here. :)

I know I've said it repeatedly, but: DAMN I'm glad it's not last year. I was just reading something that reminded me of that time, and it just made me grateful all over again to be where I am instead of where I was.

Yesterday I went and had my blood tests. I got a really good phlebotomist, and she was actually able to find a vein in my hand--but it was one of the veins they used when they took my gallbladder out, one of the (many!) veins that infiltrated and swelled my hand up like a water-balloon. And do you know, it's seventeen months later, and that vein STILL hurts like hell??? I've got this itsy little puncture, but underneath the skin, it feels like somebody stepped on it.

My first interview went well. It was with an agency, so they have a lot of contract jobs, and they'll probably be able to place me soon. I asked them for a week first--I figured that would give me time to hear about the other job, and to have a few more days off. They gave me two proficiency tests: Windows XP troubleshooting and Mac OSX Admin and Use. Predictably, I did much better on the Mac stuff, although not as well as I'd have liked. I was pretty grim on the XP test, but there was a lot of stuff on that test that I can't imagine ANYONE would know offhand. And the recruiter said the average score was 61%, so obviously it's a difficult test. We won't talk about what I got, except to say that it was substantially below average. They're going to give me access to an online self-study program, which will help me a lot, I think. (But I'd rather work with Macs anyhow.)

Outrage of the day: Parking for one hour and ten minutes: SIXTEEN FREAKING DOLLARS! Needless to say, I'm leaving early for the next interview and looking for a parking meter.

And a final thought:
Pantyhose are eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevil.

Two hours til the next interview!

Unemployment, Day 8:Don't Tempt Fate

Okay, so maaaaaaaybe I shouldn't gloat about how great everything has been going.

About ten minutes after I posted, I was placidly surfing and playing Scrabble when suddenly the screen went black. I thought I heard a low, electronic chuckle, and then: the screen went blue.

Those of you who are familiar with PCs know that the nickname for that screen--the Blue Screen of Death--came about for a reason. It's not a good thing. If it was a good thing it would be called the Blue Screen of Extreme Niceness, Fluffy Bunnies, and Ice Cream Sundaes. And it's not.

Hopeful, I shut down. I knew I was in for at least a couple of hours of software diagnostics and other fun stuff; when the machine restarted, though, I knew I was in for more than that. When the computer speaks plain English, you know it's bad, and "Unmountable Boot Volume" is about as plain as it gets. The only way it could be clearer would be if the message said "It's dead. Open your wallet now."

It was dead. No way around it. And so today, I had to go do something that it's very much not the ideal time to have to do--buy a new computer. I got a nice middle-of-the-road Compaq, and spent a little more than I planned, but not much. Despite spending money I haven't got, I have to admit I enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it more if I'd been able to get the really sexy flat-screen monitor, but I'm happy with what I've got, and my old gigantic desktop monolith will do for now.

So I sit here before my new computer, with a very promising interview scheduled for Wednesday morning, and a sleep study scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow. And--tempting fate aside--I'm still very happy.

Unemployment Day 6: People Suck, But Not All Of Them

Well, the news on the cat front is uniformly unhappy. The vet called yesterday morning to inform me that my little curb-kitten didn't make it. I wasn't surprised, really--she was in such bad shape. I comfort myself with the fact that at least she died indoors, and not by being run-over or something worse. Poor kitty.

And I went to see my neighbor about her cat situation. She confirmed that she wanted to keep the kitten, but not the mama cat. She also said that she tried to keep the kitten in the house, but people kept leaving the door open (not surprising) and the kitten would run out. I asked her if she would let me take the mama cat to the shelter, and she agreed. A few minutes later her son knocked on the door to tell me that he'd caught mama-cat in the carrier and I could take her. I drove her downtown and told the Animal Cruelty people that I needed to surrender her. Because she's not mine, that brands her a stray, and means she has to go to Animal Care and Control. Because she's an indoor-outdoor cat, she's probably not adoptable. My only hope is that she has her kittens--she is indeed knocked-up--during the waiting period. And then, that a miracle occurs and someone takes her home, instead of down the long hallway. One of the women at the shelter said that there's a new no-kill shelter opening soon; any future rescues will go there, I think. I'm conflicted; I thought I was doing a good thing, but now I'm not so sure. I'm half-tempted to go to Animal Control and "find" her.

When I got home, I hugged the heck out of BadCat and Snick. They didn't appreciate it.

Today was my doctor's appointment. After listening to my litany of symptoms (related and unrelated), she ordered exactly what I thought she would: a sleep study, a litany of blood tests, and a follow-up. She's thinking the same things I'm thinking: either sleep apnea, diabetes, hypothyroid, or (one I didn't think of) possibly anemia. I'm calling tomorrow to schedule the sleep study; the blood tests are walk-in, but I have to fast for 8 hours first. I'm hoping we figure it out.

Then, after my appointment, I had to go back to Place Where I Used To Work, to pick up my belongings. It's fairly clear to me that Immediate Boss isn't too happy about the fact that they fired me; he told me to call him if I needed anything, and to use him as a reference. He was really cool, and after he helped me carry my boxes out to the car, he gave me a hug and wished me good luck. Any animosity I feel towards anyone at that place would have to be directed solely at Human Resources; almost everyone else was okay.

And I talked to the woman who'd called Tuesday about a job; it sounds great. She forwarded my resume to the I.T. manager, so I'm waiting to hear. All in all it's been a fairly encouraging couple of days, if you don't count cats. I'm getting my health issues taken care of; I have a promising job lead; and a reference I hadn't expected. And the house is looking much better, now that LJ's gone--to say nothing of my finances! I'm contented; I'd be happier if I had a job, but in the absence of income, I'm at least content.