Hey hey things are afoot here, or three of them, composing a yard, whichever.

Today I have an interview with someone who seeks to hunt my head, and put it on a platter with an apple in my mouth, all the while asking me if I do XML. I am hopeful that I will be placed in early September when my kids go back to school, and for longer than the holiday season, which is of course a terrible time to try to find moar works.

I shopped for new clothes since everything that fits is casual, and I had that agony that you can get over interview clothes. Is this too dressy? Is this not dressy enough? Will a dingo steal my baby? Whatever. The last time worked in an office I was paradoxically both skinnier than I am now and pregnant. Yay stress and poverty. I rocked that “olive on a toothpick” look but hard.

One of the lamest interviews I ever had was in college when I was trying to get out of retail. It was incoming call center work, which I thought I might qualify for since I had done “telephone interviewing” (a.k.a. harassment, because the government needs to know how many times a week you eat carrots, fat Americans) a few years before that. I was poor college jerk, so I threw together what I had, which was a pair of black trousers and a clean, ironed white shirt, probably from the thrift store. I added a blue glass vintage brooch to it so I wouldn’t look totally clone army. The interviews were large group style and at one point the interviewer, a woman, turned to me and said, appropos of nothing, “Do you work in a movie theatre or something?”

“Um…no,” I replied lamely, startled.

I did not get the job, which was probably for the best, really. Instead I landed my cool coffee job which broke me to the world of humans and socializing properly, since I was forced to confront surely rich Phoenix dicks daily (memorable quote: “I have socks worth more than you.”) and a supposed millionaire stalker in his 50s who used to quote Seinfeld at me incessantly and plotted every week to steal me from my husband. FAIL. Maybe if I would have found the millionaire thing out up front. But no. Seinfeld quotes. That’s a tough one.

One thing I regret not doing before I had children was going off on stupid whims like that. “BYE HONEY, I’m leaving you for a coffee shop lottery winner weirdo! Goin’ to Vegas! Don’t hold dinner! Ever!” I should have married more times for money, for sure.

Usually I have projects coming out of every orifice with a side of too much cooking for good measure, but not right now. The tomatoes aren’t even ripe. This summer is a ripoff and I want my moneys back. I was going to paint the office walls, cream on the top half and French blue on the bottom, with an antique gold stripe to act as a chair rail, but now I think I will just paint most walls cream and one wall blue, ye olde lazy decorator’s standby. Too much work and precision required from plan A. But something must be done to cover the Pepto pink Franny chose when we moved in.

Additionally, I am working on giving Franny’s Patty a skin transplant, since pretty much all of Patty’s fuzz rubbed off. I had to take Patty apart to get a pattern so I could resew her with new velvet. It disturbed me and I am not so sure this was a good idea, but the truth of the matter is that Patty was disintegrating. Franny is coming back on Friday and I am behind on that! Panic! Shame! Trauma mom!

Patty sans-stuffy. Fnif.

I fear that Inky, who wants you to know s/he enjoys toast with East, is going in the same direction. Inky likes having his/her/it’s ears rubbed and now I can see Inky’s skin through them. Lucky for us we have Inky II socked away in a drawer, ready to be deployed before she gets too wise.