Jing Jing said the other day that anything strange about me could probably be explained away by pointing out how many times I’ve seen Eva.
Not very adept at what?
My apartment is significantly cleaner than it was a few days ago, though it’s still unguestably bad. I think 90% of cleaning is just throwing out boxes, packing bubbles, packing bags of air, and Penny-Savers. This is what I suppose I get for doing almost all of my shopping online. What fundamentally doesn’t make sense is just how messy this place is, when you consider the fact that I really don’t have all that much stuff.
The odds are rather good that I’ll be working for Peter, though I definitely have mixed feelings about relocating to LA. I won’t be able to relocate until 1 March at the earliest (rent and giving notice and all), so at least I have some time (until 1 February, the next time I can give notice) to make up my mind on that front. I can theoretically telecommute too, and San Diego is oh-so-perfect. Besides, I’d be two hours and no car away from everyone. I see people infrequently enough as it is.
I also have to sit down and do the math to figure out what sort of salary I can reasonably live on/ask for. Something not at all like what Jimmy was paying me, but livable. I would think that the job would look fantastic on grad school applications, and it would be quite interesting, so as long as I can continue to eat, pay off college, sleep under a roof, and abuse a high-speed Internet connection, I should theoretically be all set.
Carolyn gave me a plant, to green up the apartment. Yay. It’s a clipping from the rubber tree that was in my room there. She also hooked me up with the bag-o-stuff I left when I flew back to school; it’s amazing how lame I have been re: getting it back, since we live 6 miles from each other. But hey, my wing tips! W00t. The loafers can officially return to their traditional role as the B shoes.
Happy New Year everybody.