Saturday, November 09, 2002
 

I'm no longer cat-sitting; I'm baby-sitting. Jake here is nothing but a big baby; I've never seen a cat so clingy. Not that I'm complaining. He likes to be held (cradled, that is) like a baby, except he's a 17 lb infant and keeps putting my arm to sleep. He does amuse himself occassionally with his toy, which he enjoys knocking under the refrigerator and stove (both of which are now blocked off with library books, and he's acting disappointed; apparently, watching me lie on my stomach, fishing the toy out with the thing that opens the window blinds is half the fun).

It's been a bad week overall, and I'd love to kick back and take today off entirely. I've been reading Uncle Tom's Children dutifully, though. Don't get me wrong; I like Richard Wright, but this is (and here I'm going to sound incredibly shallow) seriously depressing. I know that's a pathetic assessment, but it's all I'm up for at the moment. I could have used something light this weekend. I may switch to my Victorian reading for a break (yeah, that 19th cen British literature! light, frothy stuff!), to avoid the shootings, tarring and featherings, mutilations, burning-alives, dying-in-childbirths, whippings, etc. for a bit. I know I sound shallow and pathetic, but that's more or less how I feel at the moment. I seriously doubt W.H. Hudson is going to be a party. One interesting tidbit about it, though: I ordered this book (nearly impossible to find; half.com failed me, for once) from amazon.com, and the seller was from the famous Charing Cross Road.

Ok. Here's the plan: I quit grad school, return to my accursed homeland, get a part-time job (liberry, anyone?), and take business classes at tech. Then I start applying for full-time, real jobs and work until I die. If anyone has any better suggestions, you know my e-mail.

Elvisette philosophized at 5:56 PM