Poor Margot. We’ve locked the cat door and Keith and Paul let her out last night not knowing she wasn’t going to get back in again until I got up around 5:30 (a good night’s sleep).
I have discovered that I am a lot more sentimental than I thought. Keith got me a Mother’s Day card, which would have been sufficient, but also a gift card. I burst into tears. It’s just so nice to be loved.
Then we exposed them to Rick and Morty. NEW VICTIMS.
I am full of plans about what I’ll do when I’m off work again. I do feel a lot more confident about the job hunt; I was doing things wrong and I admit that now, so it will go better. I have a lovely new resume which should help, and I’ll be tailoring it a lot more. It’s true, the bots looking through resumes don’t give a shit about me, and the po faced mental midgets who sort through them after the bots have done their jobs can’t assemble a sentence without turning into bleating morons. However, it’s a game, it has rules, and I can’t win if I don’t play by the rules. The rest of this paragraph has been erased on the strenuous and plaintive request of counsel.
On my list of things to do is a concert at Wreck Beach. Don’t feel bad if you’re not invited.