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.