I am someone's plaything

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I have come to the conclusion that I am currently someone's plaything. An item to be batted around and chuckle softly at. Not so much an item I suppose as a message in an inbox somewhere, flagged for importance than quickly deflagged. I'm referring to my job.

My boss came in today, says still no word on my extension. I have exactly 1 week until it really doesn't matter what they decide. I have a feeling the clock is just going to run out. Not a big deal really, I've braced for the 100 days sooner than later, but it's always nice to have a little more time to prepare - or at least know in advance. Still, given that the man responsible for holding things up is the owner of the car I once wanted to soap, I rather wish I had at this point. Anyway.

Foiled by the electrical inspection again. Miles was here (I had to get to work by noon) and said he was visibly upset at having to come back here again. He left more cryptic notes. I wonder if he realizes that "Remove GEC spacer from sewer" (or whatever his scrawl says) is counter productive. No matter, I'll call tomorrow.

For a little levity, a conversation which transpired before watching Adaptation:

Miles: So Aimee, what's this about a class?

Aimee: I'm going to take a vet class for 9 months so I can get a job which pays less money so I can go to vet school and get a job which pays more but be several hundred thousand dollars in debt.

Miles: And you're doing this because?

Aimee: I love animals. Or at least I hope I do.

Miles: Yeah, but at that point wouldn't it be cheaper just to buy a house and fill it with cats?

Aimee: ... I hate you.


Sometimes I see conversations like this and wish that I hadn't left the house.

But come on, you got to see Tomb Raider, and that's much better than witty banter with your friends.

Only if you include who I went with.

Sounds like my kind of conversation. Wish I had been there to provide the metaphorical gasoline to this discussion...


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