Well, my, my, my. I take back everything I said about my temp agency guy. I woke up Monday morning, was just about to go get the papers and moomph around the house attempting to get into the mood to clean something, when lo and behold, my cell phone rang - and there it was - a lovely job. A whole week and maybe more and at a better rate than the one I had. Of course, now that I think of it, I would never have gotten the job if I hadn't told the guy who to call - but still, who cares how I got it. I got it.
And I like the location - it's at 55th and Madison, and I can get a bus practically to the door. It has Syms around the corner, and a Pret A Manger, and Citicorp Center at 53rd and Lex which includes a nice big Barnes and Noble. And, unlike the other firm, it has lovely coffee on every floor and microwaves on every floor! The other place had coffee only every other floor, and no microwaves whatsoever (some damn fool of a partner had complained about the all-pervading smell of popcorn). And if I want to really drive myself crazy, all the stores on 57th Street are two blocks away, and I can go and dream in the windows of Chanel and Burberry.
Meanwhile, on the home front, the girls are finishing up their various home improvement jobs and preparing to move to Arizona. And you know those nice freshly painted kitchen cabinets? Well, Joshua found a spot on one of them and cleaned it so well he took the paint off. Don't ask. We are talking here about a man who once destroyed a light switch in the downstairs bathroom by driving it into the wall with his elbow. No, nobody can figure out how he managed to do this. Joshua can get himself into some extremely weird situations. For instance, every now and then I feed the dead cat in the downstairs bathroom, usually because when I come home from work I don't feel like climbing upstairs immediately, and if she's not fed right away, she shrieks unbearably when I'm trying to relax. So I feed her on a little glass plate downstairs. Well, Joshua complains about the fact that I tend to leave the plate there and he steps on it and breaks it (we have several of these little plates). Why he can't look where he's going is completely beyond me...not to mention the fact that I put the plate mostly under a little stand next to the sink. I don't even want to try and imagine the contortions that would be necessary for him to even get his foot under there, but he does it. But I guess a man who can take the paint off a cabinet cleaning it and drive a light switch into a wall trying to turn it off has powers we mere mortals don't understand.
I am sleepy...and I think I will go to bed.