sod karma.

maybe i’ll get struck down by lightning, or locusts will eat steve the gardenia, but i am taking a sickie tomorrow. i think. or i’ll take a half day and leave at noon— which never works out for me. i always get stuck on something and i can’t leave. that’s what i’m afraid of. i’ll make my decision tomorrow when i wake up.

i’m watching the dog whisperer, trying to channel cesar for my interview tomorrow. i want to be calm and assertive—without looking like an arrogant asshole. i worked on my portfolio yesterday and it looks pretty darn good. i printed it out at work today and bound it and i gathered up other pieces to supplement it. at my last interview, i shoved it in my bag (the brit said “aren’t you going to put that in an envelope or something?” me: “nah, it’ll be fine”) and when i pulled it out to show the recruiter, a rogue gummi worm had attached itself to the wire spine. not very professional. i wrangled it free before he noticed but that could’ve been slightly embarrassing. i made a mental note after that to put my portfolio in a separate thingy.

i decided that i am wearing hosiery tomorrow—fancy fishnets which i know may sound trashy but they are nice. i figured it was a good compromise between bare legs and pantyhose. fancy because i bought them at the bloody swanky hosiery shop by my work. i didn’t realise they cost $90 until i was at the register and i didn’t want to look like an idiot so i just smiled (to mask my shock) and handed her the cash (i should’ve guessed they were expensive when all the product is kept in neat little wooden chests instead of hanging on a wire rack positioned next to the trashy celebrity magazines). that’s how we ended up with super expensive tea towels from france. but that’s the brit’s doing not mine. they are nice and the brit can’t buy “normal” tea towels now. anyway, thank you to everyone who contributed. you nurture my need to fret over the little things. “my condition” the brit calls it. on my CV i call it “attention to detail.”

well, time to get on with it. the brit is home so time to think about dinner and a practice interview with the brit. if he makes me cry, we’ll have to stop and watch toddlers and tiaras instead.

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