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One of the girls in the office turned in your resignation today. I heard it through the grapevine that she doesn't have a new job yet, but intends to have one before her last day. They're moving me up to her position. Oooh, Accounts Payable Manager now. Go me. New business cards, here I come.
I've done virtually nothing of worth the last few days other than doing a bit of revamping on my fiction archive. (Pomme de Sang. I plan to put quite a bit of work into in the coming weeks, as well as some lovely volunteers who offered to help out. I want to work on my other website that is in progress, but all of my html skills and time are being diverted to PDS for the moment.
My mother is hounding me to go on vacation with her next year in October. Only my mother plans a vacation over a year in advance. She wants to rent a condo at a beach in South Carolina. She said that if Jason and I paid for our plane tickets to get there, then she and my father would pay for the condo for the week. The thing is that Jason and I don't really want to stay the entire week. It's a bit much. The place seems nice enough and it will be a three-bedroom condo with two baths. Plus, it will be right on the beach. I'm a sucker for the wind and the sand and the pathetic little tourist shops that sell nothing but junk. I'm also a sucker for eating out at new restaurants. Maybe a five-day trip. Saturday to Wednesday and then taking the remainder of the week off to rest before returning to work.
Meanwhile my father is on the internet using a satelite images to find the exact location of my apartment. I think they miss me. I miss them as well, but I don't think I can go back to living in that sort of atmosphere. Charleston, West Virginia just does not suit my personality. Not that Albuquerque, New Mexico is that much better, but it does have little pockets of culture that I enjoy. My grandmother is selling her old house that has been sitting empty for months. She offered to *give* it to me if Jason and I moved to Charleston. A free house is a rather tempting offer, but I just can't do it. I have a (meager) life here and I can't just up and leave. Especially when the job prospects in Charleston are sorely lacking.
I've done virtually nothing of worth the last few days other than doing a bit of revamping on my fiction archive. (Pomme de Sang. I plan to put quite a bit of work into in the coming weeks, as well as some lovely volunteers who offered to help out. I want to work on my other website that is in progress, but all of my html skills and time are being diverted to PDS for the moment.
My mother is hounding me to go on vacation with her next year in October. Only my mother plans a vacation over a year in advance. She wants to rent a condo at a beach in South Carolina. She said that if Jason and I paid for our plane tickets to get there, then she and my father would pay for the condo for the week. The thing is that Jason and I don't really want to stay the entire week. It's a bit much. The place seems nice enough and it will be a three-bedroom condo with two baths. Plus, it will be right on the beach. I'm a sucker for the wind and the sand and the pathetic little tourist shops that sell nothing but junk. I'm also a sucker for eating out at new restaurants. Maybe a five-day trip. Saturday to Wednesday and then taking the remainder of the week off to rest before returning to work.
Meanwhile my father is on the internet using a satelite images to find the exact location of my apartment. I think they miss me. I miss them as well, but I don't think I can go back to living in that sort of atmosphere. Charleston, West Virginia just does not suit my personality. Not that Albuquerque, New Mexico is that much better, but it does have little pockets of culture that I enjoy. My grandmother is selling her old house that has been sitting empty for months. She offered to *give* it to me if Jason and I moved to Charleston. A free house is a rather tempting offer, but I just can't do it. I have a (meager) life here and I can't just up and leave. Especially when the job prospects in Charleston are sorely lacking.