Dream Propulsion Engineer

Since hearing back in the negative from the job I'd, admittedly, had my hopes up over, I've been a bit under the already record-lows weather. Fortunately, I have a sweater's worth of yarn from Iceland, and am knitting that up- it has both obvious progress, and an implied price tag, making me feel like I'm doing something with value.

But I cannot just sit in the quiet and knit. Especially not when I'm still in the great fields of stockinette. So I've been watching Death in Paradise, a BBC mystery which succumbs to the worst of all mystery tropes. 11 minutes from the end of every episode, there will be an aha moment, followed by sitting all that week's guest characters down while he explains whodunit. Sheesh. BUT! It's set in a fictional island in the Caribbean, three of five major characters are black, the music is excellent, and it has Danny John-Jules. Colonialism is rampant but at least acknowledged. There's an extremely forced love interest that at least seems to be going nowhere. In one episode, the (British) DI knows it must be murder instead of suicide because the deceased left a very nice pot of tea only partially drunk.

Not excellent, but perfect for not paying a lot of attention to.

And I'm almost done with the stockinette.

the hedge abides.

Still boxes everywhere. Nowhere to put anything else. Please, no more loveseat? Also, does anyone want an ugly-but-relatively-functional sewing basket? How about a pair of khaki stretch corduroys from the Gap? They are ostensibly a 12L, but all my other 12L's fit me and these don't, so I would say more like a 10L. Also a three-drawer rubbermaid thingydo. It's white and about a foot cubed. How about onea' them double window-fans? Or, I don't know, some crap. Take it off my hands. Pleeeeease.

This one, Mom, I blame on you. If something is still useful to someone, I can't possibly throw it away. I can't even just put it out in the alley and hope someone will take it. Fuck, it took me two years just to get to the point where I could throw out plastic zipper bags, and that is mostly because I don't have a good way to dry them unless I wash a wooden spoon at the same time. I BLAME YOU.

Also, why does Medica send me these "explanation of benefit" letters every time I even think about going to the Dr? How much paper do I really need in my life?! Just for them to tell me that my health insurance is absolutely worthwhile, but that if I want to appeal their decision to pay for everything, I should call the number listed below.

Meg and Brixton and I were supposed to have knitting tonight, but I think I did more rows on the bus home than I did this evening. We got to Meg's about 7:30, got mauled by her "cat," and were informed that there was no food and she hadn't eaten and maybe we'd like to go to this new pub by her house. It's on Selby at Fairview, called the Blue Door, and they have excellent food, quite reasonably priced. But also, not a ton of room. Also also, big TV's set to the Twins game. So it took a hell of a long time for us to get a place to sit. But it's a nice place. They have juicy lucys made with bleu cheese and garlic. And beer-battered green beans. And "soup of the jour." Which is either funny or depressing.

I don't like the fact that my lips are already chapped, or that my skin has a white sheen from being too dry, or that we seem to have skipped "the sun sets at 8" in favor of "the sun sets at 7," but I love that I get to wear sweaters and sleep with my comforter and that the sumac on 94 has gone all glorious on us.

But I'm totally going to freeze my butt off in the Boundary Waters, because Dan and I are going again in 2.5 weeks. Brave or stupid? EP 16, Moose River N. Probably have to wade the whole river, but Nina Moose sounds good. We'll see how far we get from there. I think we're taking the canvas tent with the stove. Heated tent. FTW.

the hedge abides.

Rest in peace, beloved scarf, which is probably getting driven over and pounded into the pavement of Grand Avenue as I type. That, or it has managed to totally conceal itself in Ellie's car, and we'll find it years later. I made that scarf about seven years ago, and it took me a long damn time. Partly because I kept ripping it out and starting over, but still. It has served me well, and I anthropomorphize too much, because I hate losing things because I'm worried that they'll feel abandoned.

So tonight Brixton and I went to Clickity Sticks and I bought yarn for a new scarf. Tomorrow there is a Smif Club of MN knitting group meeting, which would be fun to attend and productive, too, but it's all the way in Plymouth, I work at 5 tomorrow, and my car may not be fixed by then.

Which brings me to the next point: have you ever had your master cylinder die? Don't. It sucks.

Fortunatly, I have The Best Sisteril Ever. Ellie has been letting me borrow her car for over a week now, and I cannot even begin to express my gratitude. I could do most things without it if I had to, but those 5am shifts at work would have been especially miserable in this week of near-Canadian temperatures if I had to take the bus for an hour to get there.

On Wednesday I go back to the U for a second interview with a PI in the neuroscience department. I am a little nervous after five months of retail work about taking a job with actual responsibility. Suddenly I am much more afraid of disappointing people than is entirely reasonable, and I dislike that feeling. I also dislike the realization that I shy away from responsibility. Double self-esteem whammy.

On the other hand, I'd get to learn a lot of really cool techniques, I'd learn a lot about neuroscience (which I have not studied), and my project would concern circadian rythyms, which hold a special place in my heart. Also, a regular schedule, nice-seeming boss, an easily non-car commute, HEALTH INSURANCE, a reasonable amount of money, something like self-respect, free classes at the U, using my brain, and vacation time. Things that most people take for granted... I just need to not be as dazed as I was at the last interview, but I won't have worked at 5am, so that should be no problem, right?

When I get a real job, one of the first things I'm going to do is buy myself a new MP3 player. Any suggestions? Well, I've got a pretty prohibitive list of demands, but let's see what we can come up with:( demands! )

the hedge abides.