dead days

Poor Jen. Every time she visits my desk she has to endure my pensive mutterings. Today sucks.

Today I read through some of my boyfriend's diaryland archives for the first time. This was a stupid thing to do, because I have an almost physical revulsion to prying, and looking at archived blog entries feels like prying to me. For some reason, even though things like that aren't out of bounds, they seem to me like a letter left open on the coffee table.

monday thoughts, or, i hate titles sometimes

My candidate is forty minutes late for her interview. Her recruiter just called me. The PATH train screwed her (not the recruiter's words). New Jersey strikes again.

I don't like interviewing candidates for this job. Basically what I'm looking for is someone vastly overqualified who is totally fine with being that way, which is a hard bill to fit. I wonder if I should care so much. Moving on to better work should be more important to me that making sure my replacement is perfect.

Now that I'm a ferreals working stiff, I don't feel as complacent about the work that I do. I want to move upwards, even just a little bit, but these interviews are dragging on and I'm still in the same position, while we hire new temps who look at me like I'm the Help. Which I am, of course, just extremely snobby help.

As far as money goes, this spring was perfectly comfortable. I still can't believe I managed to save enough to pay both for a move, and for a ticket to see Shivvy get married across the pond. I'm back to paycheck-to-paycheck now, which so far is not disastrous. Last night I bought five Pasta Roni packets and a half gallon of milk, plus one box of Hamburger Helper and a pound of ground beef - you know, to spoil myself. That'll last the week, which is fine.

Payday is Friday and I'm going to end up blowing the whole thing right away so that I can look good at Neela and Jeb's wedding (haircut), not get pregnant (pill refill), learn about insomnia and depression (doctor co-pay), and go to the year's most surreal and last-minute wedding (my father's at the end of this month, which he announced last week and at which my ordained mother is officiating).

Conrad says I haven't been myself lately. I'm trying to fit back into my own skin - sleep is helping - but I keep wondering if there's something deeper nagging at me. You know, like a brain tumor. (I do have a tiny bump on my ear that I can't explain...)