Ai yi yi yi, what a rough week. Believe it or not, we in the Midwest use that interjection too, it’s not necessarily unique to Spanish speakers. I often recall my maternal grandfather say it.
So much for the nice plans I had last week, mainly to celebrate my 21 years of staking out Austin as my new home. When I look back at how much the weather sucks up North and how the stupidity virus from Deep South continues to infect my old homeland, every day in Austin is a little celebration. This bloating city is a modern-day Constantinople toughing it out through the Stupid Ages.
Anyway, Somara came down with something by last Sunday night after I dropped her off to play D&D (as a PC!) in Matt’s new campaign. Symptoms mainly entailed dehydration effects and fatigue. She spent a couple days sleeping it off while living on ginger ale and saltines. I figured I was in the clear, my immune system had recovered from a month ago.
WRONG!
I could feel it coming on during my monthly session to see Dr. Custer. Sore throat, fever and chills. How pissed I was. I drove like mad home with the heater in my car cranked to 80° F because I felt pretty cold by then. Went straight to bed as soon as I was home and had food. Following morning I felt functional enough but used a work option to get Somara some supplies and ease into the day.
WASN’T ENOUGH
The additional rest afforded me the time and energy to get me through my obligations that afternoon, one of which I won’t talk about until much, much later yet I think my mind has been made up about how this year may pan out. I scheduled Wednesday off to be safe.
Turned out I needed it, matters took a turn for the worst as my teeth chattered. Somara rebounded, she always does that faster than me, went back to work. I pulled together for Thursday afternoon due to a job interview I never thought I’d land. Then I knew I had what Somara was fighting 15 minutes before the interview, I sold three Buicks in the bathroom. Man did I feel better. I even had what I felt was one of my best application interactions in years! Whether or not I land the temporary gig doesn’t matter to me. I mostly enjoy what I do. Regardless of what the interviewers may sense, feel, etc.; it’s how I feel walking away. For the last few yard, I’ve been on the other side of the table taking in who succeeded and who didn’t. Key thing, if the candidate was comfortable and could answer all the questions comfortably and as themselves, then a more clear judgment was made. It didn’t necessarily go in favor of the applicant but it provided us interviewers tighter feedback to provide to help the person cinch it next time. Same way for me.
I’ll bore you more later should I get the gig.
I took Friday off as I limped across Thursday’s finish line.
The previous two days have been uber-boring. Ninety percent of them spent in bed trying not to push my body. Hell, I’ve broken into a light sweat just writing this. One kind of productive thing I did do was finally watch the first season of The 100 in my Netflix queue. It seemed more interesting than the standard Young Adult-Post Apocalypse drivel Hollywood has latched on to since The Hunger Games, aka The Red States‘-other-sick wish-fulfillment-after Left Behind. Given the cheapass CW network budget, it’s intriguing enough. It stars a poor-man’s Reese Witherspoon from Australia (I remember calling that actress the poor-man’s Alicia Silverstone, now who’s famous?), two minor character actors from BSG and outdoor sequences screaming British Columbia-Outer Vancouver. What it isn’t, is a photocopy of The Hunger Games aka Divergent and Maze Runner.
Let’s hope this week has a better outcome: Lloyd Cole show at Cactus, Somara’s baking competition, possibly another interview, a slug of movies I want to see, payday! and my writing bug has been neglected.