Friday, June 25, 2004
Well Shitfoot spent most of the morning and part of the afternoon kvetching about how awful he feels and stomping around like the world has done him wrong, but my job interview seems to have improved his spirits considerably. He's been jovial and chatty ever since.
I was unexpectedly given the opportunity to interview for a job at a posh hotel in town today... it went very well, especially considering the last-minute nature of it. The Pastry Chef is the husband of a former boss of mine, and he was quite nice. I'm not concerned that they have a better candidate--it's just that they're not sure there's actually a position yet. I'll find out on Monday. And even then, the pay is almost half what I really need. OK, more like ¾. Sucks big blue rocks. But beggars can't be choosers, you know, so off to work for peanuts I'll go if they offer it to me.
I admit, I'm petulant about it because not only would it mean I'm getting paid less than I want, but it will also keep me here in town (meaning, I'll have to move to a cheaper part of town), and it will require I work weekends, meaning time with Rusty will be scarce. And that just downright pisses me off. Damn the cosmos. Or God. Or Whoever Is Responsible for this. Is this the Universe trying to tell me something? Because it doesn't make me want to break up with him, it makes me want to throw caution to the wind and beg him to move here or move there or something equally as impetuous and melodramatic. I miss him something fierce. It's been a tough week for both of us, and all I want to do is curl up next to him and close my eyes. But instead, he's being Responsible and spending the weekend doing the things he should have been doing over the past month or so when he was with me instead. I feel guilty that I've kept him from other responsibilities, but if he'd just ask, I'd be there again in a heartbeat.
I was unexpectedly given the opportunity to interview for a job at a posh hotel in town today... it went very well, especially considering the last-minute nature of it. The Pastry Chef is the husband of a former boss of mine, and he was quite nice. I'm not concerned that they have a better candidate--it's just that they're not sure there's actually a position yet. I'll find out on Monday. And even then, the pay is almost half what I really need. OK, more like ¾. Sucks big blue rocks. But beggars can't be choosers, you know, so off to work for peanuts I'll go if they offer it to me.
I admit, I'm petulant about it because not only would it mean I'm getting paid less than I want, but it will also keep me here in town (meaning, I'll have to move to a cheaper part of town), and it will require I work weekends, meaning time with Rusty will be scarce. And that just downright pisses me off. Damn the cosmos. Or God. Or Whoever Is Responsible for this. Is this the Universe trying to tell me something? Because it doesn't make me want to break up with him, it makes me want to throw caution to the wind and beg him to move here or move there or something equally as impetuous and melodramatic. I miss him something fierce. It's been a tough week for both of us, and all I want to do is curl up next to him and close my eyes. But instead, he's being Responsible and spending the weekend doing the things he should have been doing over the past month or so when he was with me instead. I feel guilty that I've kept him from other responsibilities, but if he'd just ask, I'd be there again in a heartbeat.
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