(Pretend it's last Tuesday.) So as I sat at the airport in DC waiting for my flight to take off, my temp agency called to tell me that I've picked up a gig for the next 4-6 weeks. Cool. The catch? It started last Wednesday. So I've got a cold, a delayed flight, and now, apparently, a job to start at 8:30 the next morning. Perfect. I made it back, did laundry, visited with the boy, changed the bedsheets from where Biggs left me a welcome home present, and got going. I had to call out on Thursday due to the cold, which made me feel like a complete douche. Who calls out on the second day of work? But when I went back Friday, they totally understand, and I think were happy, that I wasn't there. I looked a complete mess on Wednesday, and no-one wants a summer cold.
So now I work, and it's cool, and I'm almost completely recovered, and this weekend the civics competition people that I work for want me to go down to Birmingham and judge another competition. Cool! But I may never get rest again. Also, it sucks to go down there and then not be able to hang out with my friends. But I might be able to sneak something in.
What's that they say? No rest for the wicked? Darn tootin'. And I promise promise promise to get that DC post up sometime this month.
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