Unenthused, unsurprised, unemployed.

Wednesday, I got a call from one of the temp agencies.  I’d applied for a job while I was on vacation[1], and the client wanted me in on Monday, so they were checking to see if I was still interested.  I said yes, they said excellent, there’d be no problem as long as I had an enhanced reliability security clearance, and I should be able to start on Monday.

I do have that clearance.  They said excellent, they’d just get the number from PWGSC, and all would be good.

Apparently something’s gone off with that, since I got an e-mail at 3:30 this afternoon asking me to fill out, scan, and e-mail them paperwork.  At the moment they want to see if I can start Wednesday, and I still haven’t gotten an address.  An address would be very useful.  Just saying.

I’m tired.  Tired and unhappy and at that stage where I am really worrying about whether or not I should take the job, and not sure if it’d be up to me, anyway.

Watching trailers with John and trying to improve my mood.  Knock on wood.


[1] Bless the wonders of IMAP servers; my computers are finally set up so that I can send and receive e-mail from either one and it’ll still show up on the other.  Even Sent items.  This is a vast improvement over not checking my e-mail on my laptop so that I can have it all in one place.  Now it’s all in two places.

…sometimes I think I have too many files in my life.

Tired

Didn’t get a lot done today, but it was nice to spend time with John.  Went out to dinner this evening and then picked up the cat, and it’s really great to have him back.  Unfortunately, he’s annoying the other cat, and it’s really not tenable.  She was happy without him around.  Now she’s on top of the cupboard again.  I’ve shut him in the bathroom, but it’s not exactly a long-term solution.

We can’t–it’d be miserable, giving Angus away.  And it’s not fair to Abby like this.  Maybe we can find some way to split them up in terms of which floor they’re on.  I don’t know; it’s late and I’m tired and I can tell I’m at that point where my focus is just stretching out and nothing is getting done.  Meant to go to bed a couple of hours ago, and then we smelt smoke, and that is just not a relaxing event.  We spent a quarter-hour trying to figure out where the hell it was coming from.  (It turned out that a giant housefly got trapped under the lightbulb of one of the lamps, and when we turned the light off, the smoke smell started really spreading.  Rather like when you blow out a scented candle, and the scent’s very strong for a bit, because the particles are wafting around spreading instead of being burnt up.)

All of this to say I’m tired.  More tomorrow; want to discuss ghosts as handled in American Horror Story.

Wan. Wan is a word that needs more love.

I was actually in bed, about ready to turn out the light, when I remembered this.

I almost didn’t get up, but… well.  I can live with missing a day (although I find it amusing and a little saddening that I started missing days when I was on vacation at home, rather than on vacation on the road).  I don’t like it, but I can live with missing a day.  But  missing two days, that just seemed like that start of the end.

Was job-hunting today.  It didn’t go very well–a lot of positions that require degrees or years of concentrated experience that I don’t have–but I found a few places to apply. I… keep feeling like I need to find some kind of focus, instead of scrabbling just to find the next job as quickly as I can.  But I always end up feeling slightly guilty and ashamed when I do that; I’ve learned to see it as something almost prissy, putting aside one job because another might be better.

I need to stop doing that.  There are a lot of jobs out there[1].  There is one day every twenty-four hours, and I should try and at least make sure I’m not doing something that grinds me down to where I’m too tired to think about what I’d like to do.  I can afford to look, at least.


[1] Theoretically.  Work with me.

Recovery

Wow.  Missed two days, there.  Not feeling great about that, but carrying on.

Made it home, and not feeling quite as satisfied about that as I might expect.  The place feels… well, it’s mine, and that’s good.  But it feels much less comfortable than some of the places we stayed.  I know that hotels are designed to be comfortable[1], so there’s an edge there, but this place feels like it’s not ready to be lived in yet.

We picked up a painting in a little homestyle restaurant the other day–yesterday, in fact.  It’s all warm gold and brown tones, a country road and a cloudy sky, an oil painting that was up on the wall for sale.  I’ve hung it up, and it seems to help a bit.  Looking around now (not anywhere I can see the painting in question), the walls seem pretty bare.

Maybe reorganizing a little will help.  I don’t know.  We don’t spend a lot of time in the living room; our offices are on different floors.  I know it’s different coming home, but it definitely seems easier to spend time away from each other with the layout here.

Something to think about, I guess.  Probably when the coming-home melancholy wears off.


[1] And they all had these amazing pillows.  I mean really big pouffy cuddly pillows. I miss them.