It's Quiet. A Little...TOO Quiet.

Okay, actually the only way in which it's too quiet is on the job front; on my second/third interview (on Thursday) at Place Which Has Interviewed Me So Many Times That They Might As Well Get Some Work Out Of Me, I was told a decision would be made "Friday, or Monday at the latest." Why is it ALWAYS "the latest"? But I shouldn't complain; this one looks good.

And today, that's about the only part of the outside world which does. I slept most of the day; now that I've looked at the news, I can see why I did.

First story: they found Jessie Davis, the 9-months'-pregnant mom from Ohio. Of course she was murdered, and of course the boyfriend did it. The old story. Don't these guys THINK? Does each of them, before they murder their pregnant wife/girlfriend/whatever, think "It'll be the perfect murder, and nobody will suspect ME, the devoted husband/boyfriend/whatever"?? And of course, the cherry on the sundae: it's an interracial relationship. Because god forbid that one of THOSE can be portrayed on the national stage in a positive way--after all, we already have so many good examples of healthy, faithful, loving interracial relationships out there. Urgh.

Second story: they arrested Christopher Vaughn, the husband and father in the story where the wife and three kids were found shot to death in an SUV on an access road. He claimed his wife was the shooter, and pointed to a shot in his own leg as the evidence...c'mon, dude. Seriously. Putting the blame on the victim--that's just low. And those poor kids--they were so beautiful, and apparently all three of them were very gifted, as well. How on earth does someone kill their own flesh and blood? Three individual human beings, who share your DNA, who probably look like you a little bit at least, who have personalities and quirks and stories all their own?? I don't get it, not at all.

(Of course, I don't understand killing in general. I talked to the neighbors some more, to find out if they knew who the possum-burners were; consensus is that they're two of the guys from the block (I've got names now, street-names at least) and that they absolutely were NOT trying to burn my house down/scare me/whatever. This last comes from Len from next-door, who went across the street, to the house the rodent-warriors hang out at, and point-blank asked what their intention was. Apparently, this possum had been pursued for quite a few minutes before he ended up in my stairwell--he was on the porch two-doors-down, where they threw boots and bottles at it til the man who lives there chased them away; then they made a detour into Len and Phoebe's front yard, til Junior saw them from across the street and chased them away from THERE; and then it ducked through the fence into my front yard, and though Junior tried to chase them out of there as well, they didn't listen, and they followed it down the gangway to the backyard, where it met its fate. And I STILL don't understand the reasoning--although in talking to people, I did learn something: every single male I discussed this with expressed that he either had in the past, or would, given the opportunity, do the same thing to a possum, rodent, or other unwanted animal. Junior, in fact, admitted that he and his friends had done something equally heinous to an animal once, "...but I won't tell you what kind of animal it was, though," he said, cementing my suspicion that he was talking about a cat. And these are mostly NICE guys!! Even Tim said HE'd kill a possum, given the chance...)

Oh, and THEN...
This afternoon, I was awakened from my nap by Debbi, with whom I'd gone to dinner last night; she and Cowgirl and I had finally gotten together for my birthday, after last week's event was cancelled due to possum-immolation. Debbi has this guy, who is also a Wiccan, with whom she's been discussing entering the first stage of Wiccan marriage--a marriage for "a year and a day", during which they can decide whether or not they want to stay together permanently. Makes good sense, to me...I mean, the CONCEPT does, not Debbi and this guy. As you will see.

Anyway, she had called her guy this morning, apparently, and was talking to him about some problems he'd been having at his job--you know, typical girlfriend-ly commisseration--when in the background, she heard a cough.

A FEMININE cough.

Turns out that while she was on the phone with this guy who supposedly wants to marry her? He was in bed, with his former fiancee--the one who stalked him, and on whom he has taken out a restraining order, and because of whom he's changed his phone number x times and changed residences at least once. (Um, dude? Here's a hint, since you seem to need one: Those precautions? Are a LOT LESS EFFECTIVE when you then bring the stalker HOME and SLEEP with her!!!!)

Needless to say, Debbi was extremely peeved, slightly drunk, and in need of someone to kvetch to. I have no problem with taking that role; heaven knows the poor girl has listened to enough of MY problems, in the course of our 32-year friendship.

I'm really starting to think that my choice to stay away from men and relationships for a while is a very, very smart idea. Too many pitfalls, too many philanderers, too many possum-killers. I'm discovering that, other than the absence of JP, I'm quite happy on my own.

Or at least I would be, if these doggone employer-people would just CALL!!!!