It Is Friday Night. You Can't Argue With That.

I think my allergies are starting to bloom along with the trees; yesterday my eyes felt heavy and tired, and I was slightly more congested than usual. At first I thought, "I have to get some extra sleep," and then, "But not tonight, the game doesn't start until 8." And of course, it went into overtime! By the time the Bruins mercifully ended it, I was listening to the radio in bed, and was thrilled to be able to turn it off and go to sleep happy. Early to bed, late to bed, whatever; it's the playoffs. Next game, the first could-clinch-the-series game, is tomorrow afternoon.

Other than the game, and Mister "you were away FOREVER, you will cuddle me NOW," it was a quiet evening. I polished my shoes, cut my fingernails (which were at the stage where it's hard to get my contacts out), rode the bike a little. Had some soup. Envy my glamorous life? Well, just wait: tonight it's laundry! Though I also picked up treasure on my way home: a library book, the new Patricia Briggs, mmm.

As for the job thing, despite all my mutters of please-please-please to the universe today, there were no further developments until just now, when I came upstairs from rotating the laundry to hear the you-have-a-message chime from my phone. These California people! I called her back and got her voice-mail, then she called me back to discuss possible times, which will need to be confirmed on Monday since of course the people here are gone for the day. So kind of back to limbo (with a mild wish that the California people could have gotten their acts together during business hours on the east coast, is that so much to ask, oh well).

Earlier, I had thought about e-mailing the recruiter in California back, since on Wednesday evening he had said that the scheduler would call me "tomorrow" to set up an interview for "early" next week. However, when I double-checked the e-mail he sent, it says the scheduler will contact me "soon" to set up a meeting "next week," which I decided meant I should wait and see if I heard from them on Monday before I nagged. And now, in a sense, I'm just waiting until Monday anyway. And I hate waiting!



But enough. At least I know something. Back to the laundry and the book and the cat. And the weekend.