Job for Real?

I'm pretty sure that I have a job (and like, a job-job, not just some dinky ten hour a week part timer) but I don't want to talk about it because then I'll totally jinx myself and be all embarrassed.

So let's move on to other things.

I'm definitely moving next Saturday; I'll be staying in the living room of Daniel's swanky Upper West Side apartment. It's very exciting to get out of Queens because I am so, so tired of bus + subway commuting. Even better, it is close to the Job That Must Not Be Named (hint: I will be working at 40th and Madison, find me!). I dragged one huge suitcase already and that was enough to convince me to hire a Man with a Van next Saturday for like, $60.

I have my cornucopia overflowing of reasons that I want to get out of here, and the latest one is that the Russians leave a gross, stinky kitchen. Enough said.

Oh, I went to Central Park for the first time in my entire life on Saturday. We watched some softball games and I got self-conscious because I was the only person cheering out of two entire sets of bleachers. We need some more life in our crowds here.

In case you were wondering, after Breathless came Mean Girls. I might watch a documentary. Right now I am considering Cold Case Files: the most infamous cases.

I have a ton of garbage (not organic matter, just old envelopes and things that keep well) and I can't get rid of it because I still don't know when garbage day is. I need to keep my eyes open.

Today on the Q46 home this really elderly man sat next to me, effectively blocking my access to the aisle. The bus was crazy-full, and when I awkwardly got up to leave, this old guy just barely turns to the side. I had to scootch past him with my butt all up in his business. I was uncomfortable but I doubt he noticed.