(the sounds of the acoustic guitar intro of Bob Dylan's Girl from the North Country just filled my ears and soothed me . . . ah . . .)
First thing was missing meeting Trisa for lunch, due to communications problems with meeting spots and things. But when I breathlessly caught her in her office, she was able to inform me both that I sounded very ill, and that she had recently been contacted by Jennifer Polinsky, whose pretty name I now offer up to be taken by the virtual vultures circling in the html skies. But I won't tell you about her now because it doesn't seem worth the effort.
Polinsky lives in a place located a considerable drive from Here. About as distant as what looks to be my probable future workplace.
Although I prolly shouldn't say "probable", as every job prospect I've had a good feeling about has never yielded anything. But then, neither did the ones I had a bad feeling about so I dunno . . .
This opportunity was presented to me to-day by an old co-worker of mine, from back in my Pic'N'Save days, who goes by the name of Hina. A friendly girl, albeit one with somewhat dubious aspirations and goals. The most interesting and unique thing I found about her was hearing her tales of her country of origin, Pakistan. Like the story of the headless prisoner her mother saw when she was younger, that was kept in a cage, and apparently was still moving about after decapitation.
The job she told me about, and gave me the application for, was for a library assistant. I would get above minimum wage for it, it'd be a pleasant environment, and it's a good long ways away, which I like for some reason. I pray now to my favourite gods that I get this job.
After this meeting, I went to watch old home-movies with my sister. My sister's sixteen now, and the videos we watched were from her 2nd birthday. Seeing her in baby form was weird enough, but watching myself was plain eerie. I had a large tree branch which I was for some reason using to prod the camera while giving a running commentary of the party's events.