2 Ineloquent 2 Stuff

I'm back bitches.

Did you miss me? Just too much has happened in the last couple days I couldn't stay away and not tell you all about it. And yes, I'll still keep this blog going.

First, I'll update you on what I'm sure is hot on everyone's mind: the job search.

I have two interviews tomorrow, one of which was very last minute, in fact they emailed me at 3pm today and asked if I could come in. I said I could talk on the phone, but probably not come in for an in-person chat. I mean, logistically I probably could have but I have dinner plans... In any case "come in NOW" seems more stressful than an interview needs to be. Tomorrow works great, thank you.

This last-minute interview is for the tutoring position by the way, the one a girl at a party talked to me about a month ago. Who I ran into again on Friday at the Halloween party I went to and she was wearing a purple wig and I was wearing a hat and sunglasses and neither of us quite recognized the other until we said our names.

The job search itself was a bit of a downer today. I looked again at my document of companies I would like to work for and went to all of their career pages. I couldn't find a single posting that landed between "I like this" and "I have enough experience for this." Am I claiming there ain't a job left in New York for me to apply to? Maybe. Maybe I applied to all the jobs.

The second topic everyone wants to know about: the washing machine, is it fixed?? NO. I want you guys to know I don't just open my laptop, type out "still not fixed?!?!" and twiddle my thumbs. I've been calling our super and the building manager at least twice a week and asking when the repair guys are coming.

To further complicate things my roommates and I are not sure if our super is named Ernest or Emez. I have Emez in my phone from a building wide flyer that said your new super is Emez. But Hannah says he introduced himself as Ernest. Did she mishear? Is our management company just wrong? Until this month, the address on our rent check was misspelled so it's feasible. He called me this afternoon and said "Hello"--!! big reveal--"This is your super." This is not a new super by the way, he's been here months already. So maybe this washing machine fiasco can be explained by his vendetta against the girls in apartment 26 who keep calling him "Ernest."

Lastly, the hot goss on topic number three, the mouse.

I had a fair number of candy wrappers in the garbage can in my room from a certain holiday called Halloween. Two nights ago, at 5:30am I woke up with a jolt, wide awake. There was rustling coming from the trash. I stared at it in the early dawn light, looking for evidence of what I already knew was true, the mouse was here. I could see it's outline through the plastic. I got up and turned on the light. My mouse outline turned out to be just a snickers wrapper (omg I realized I compared the mouse to a fun-sized candy bar in this blog post and I literally mistook it for one.) I stood over the trash can holding my breath, waiting to hear another rustle but there was only silence. It seemed my mouse paranoia was getting a little too high. I turned off the light and got back in bed. Immediately the rustling picks back up, I see a tissue move and the mouse pops out onto the rim of the trash can and runs away. Next time, I think to myself.

This morning I woke up again, wide awake, to the sound of rustling in the trash. I rolled over and stared at the trash can for a long time before I gathered the courage to go through with my plan. I banked again on the mouse being petrified with fear rather than fleeing, as it had done yesterday when I was near. I pushed the trash can with my foot into the kitchen to where the proper trash bags are under the sink (I have but a plastic bag in my waste bin.) I picked up my trash and gingerly placed it into the trash bag, nearly dropping it on its side at one point, my heart in my throat, imagining mice jumping out of the bag into my face. I tied up the trash bag with a tight double knot and left it in the hallway to explain to my roommates when they got up.

So we threw out the mouse. Fingers crossed.

I signed up to do an open mic with Arti on the 16th of November! WAAAAAAAAH. No, you can't come.

The header is a montage tribute to Timothy/Nibbles the mouse and my zoomed-in photos of him.