noodlestein’s Neighborhood

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Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night...

Okay. I waited five months to hear that I didn't get the last job, so I guess I should be glad that it only took three weeks to hear that I didn't get the latest job. They were much more efficient, I'll give them that! And they even footed the bill for flying me to and from their all-day interview-a-rama, which was very polite. Alas, the search for work shall continue.

Meanwhile, I've been busy with a nasty cold-flu that I picked up somewhere on my job-seeking travels. Three coughs for being unemployed! Hip Hip CHLUUUARRGH! Hip Hip BRRROUUUUUACHHH! Hip-CRUUUUBBRUCUUHUUH!

*sniff* Well, I tried.

But I'm enjoying the nearly three feet of snow that two April blizzards delivered to us this week. Except for shoveling some snow and a trip to the laundromat, I haven't left the house since returning from the job interview.

Why would I shovel snow when I'm sicker than I've been in years? Why, to mail a letter!

You see, the day after the job interview I composed an actual letter–to be mailed, not e-mailed–to my latest prospective employer. I briefly but kindly thanked them for meeting with me, and dutifully enclosed my original receipt from gassing up the rental car (the latter being a request from my prospective manager as he explained that they would be reimbursing me for gas, and he would be submitting the paperwork). I was concise and business-like, and I closed by expressing my enthusiasm for this opportunity. I felt good about the letter.

I needed to send it off right away, to impress my would-be employers with my promptness and efficiency! However, due to the aforementioned illness, the weekend snuck by before I finally got around to printing the letter...let alone signing it, neatly folding it, finding an envelope, typing out the envelope addresses in the word processing program I just closed after printing the letter, figuring out how to actually run an envelope through our printer, carefully inserting the letter and my gas receipt in to the second envelope I printed, moistening the envelope glue with water to seal it (instead of my undoubtedly cootie-laden saliva), and gently adhering the least-christmassy stamp I could find with the correct postage in the upper-left-hand-corner of the envelope. So, naturally, it was after the man of the house had left for work, after he vigilantly shoveled away tons of snow on the side and back of the house to make driving out of our garage even possible, that I looked out the front door and realized my letter was trapped. The snow had buried half of the front fence, making it impossible to open the gate. The walkway was nonexistent, and our porch was a big blob of snow. See for yourself:

Blizzard, Part One

Okay, well, it was deeper than it looks. So would the mail come with 32 inches of snow on the ground? Geeky me decided to check the USPS website:

Customers are required as a condition of delivery to ensure that proper access is provided to mail receptacles. Proper access includes the removal of large accumulations of snow from the area around curbline receptacles and from sidewalks leading to door or other house‑mounted receptacles.

So much for their motto!

So, I decided to shovel the front walk. While sick. And you know, it was kinda fun. I even made a mini-snowman when I was done. The snow was just right for it! And despite how it looks outside, it's April, and I figured I wouldn't get another chance until next winter. Still, it was strenuous (all the more so because of the wetness of digging through all of that nice snowman-snow), and I probably shouldn't have done it. But I had to make sure my letter got out that day!

I shoved the letter part-way out of the mail-slot, and contemplated it. I've never actually mailed a letter from a mailbox like this. I went back to the computer and read some more from USPS's FAQ:

If your mailbox is attached to the house, letter carriers are not required to pickup mail if they have no mail to deliver. Mail cannot be delivered to or picked up from a blocked mailbox.

Nice. They even rub it in about the blocked mailbox. So will the mail carrier come? Am I getting mail today? I've come to realize that I prefer the concept of having an actual mailbox at the street, with a flag to raise when you have outgoing mail. After all:

If your mailbox is located on the street, letter carriers should pickup outgoing mail if the flag is up.

Totally unfair.

So I waited...I think our mail might not arrive until a little later in the afternoon...but...once it got to six o'clock I had to admit that the mail wasn't coming. I pulled my letter back in, and saw that the end of it that had been stuck out of the house was damp and cold.

The next morning, I shoved the letter back out. Ever the optimist! But when the MotH was leaving for work, he offered to drop it into the mailbox outside the post office. I figured that was a good idea.

...Until later that afternoon, when I got the call from the prospective employer. As I mentioned, I didn't get the job.

So now my upbeat, enthusiastic, maybe-I'll-get-the-job letter will arrive at the desks of the people who "decided to go with someone else" 2-3 days after they didn't hire me. Cute.

Oh, and of course, a few hours after I got the no-job-for-you call, I received a magazine and a bank statement in the mail.

Houses, couches, and jobs...

Well, after all of that waiting, I heard that I didn't get the job (though they consoled me by saying that I'm an Articulate Young Woman). So, enough with wallowing in the gnawing void of uncertainty, and on to other things!

Things like the Big Bronze Rascal.

Yes, today we became the proud owners of a large, gaudy, slightly shimmery living room set to cram into our Little Pink House (well, we like to say that it's salmon). You see, the move to the LSH allowed us to finally reacquire all 3,711 pounds of our previous life, neatly boxed up... but we neglected to keep our previous all-futon living room set. And despite the gracious donation of a pair of chairs from the in-laws, and the re-acquisition of our trusty old bean bag chair, we find ourselves missing couch life. "Ah, to lay on a couch again!" We lament. (Yes, we do realize that there are far worse things in life than not having a couch to lay on. But it is nice, don't you agree?)

So we searched the local furniture stores, and even the not-so-local furniture stores, but we didn't find a couch that met our needs: comfortable to sit on, long enough to lay down on, with loose cushions (I can't stand the shlumpiness that occurs over time with those sewn-in cushions), and not upholstered with micro-fiber (they say it's more durable, but all I notice is that it leaves butt-prints in the nap of the fabric). Oh, and it had to be cheap!

Finally, we found a couch that was pretty much on-target...but it's a mottled gold color (well, the product description called it bronze). Oh, and it comes with pillows, but they're trimmed in dark salmon. We talked with Marge the Salesperson, and after getting a quote went home to think about it.

We returned the next day, having decided that because it was the most comfortable couch we'd found in our price range, we could live with the eccentric look (well, the manufacturer named it Grandeur). We were just going to get the couch, but apparently the set was just closed out, and so we got the whole group--the couch, a big chair, and an ottoman--on a discount. The Great Haggler got them to knock the price down a little more, and thus we got a living room set.

Now we just have to make sure that we can cram it all into our LSH. But then again, I'm interviewing for another out-of-town job, so maybe we'll just have to throw the Big Bronze Rascal and Pals onto the 3,711-pound pile! And of course, if I don't get the job, we'll be able to live quite comfortably in a nearby alley.

I hope procrastination is somehow a virtue...

I've often thought about writing in a blog, but I've never done it (and this is just one of several accounts I've set up on various services over the years, with good intentions but no results). I find myself with some time on my hands, so I might as well make one token post, and see how it goes.

Then I can get back to procrastinating, which I've always excelled at.

So...how are you? Me? Oh, I'm fine.

I feel like I'm always waiting for something these days. Probably because I am. But it's like I'm at a crowded deli counter, peering through the display cases to see if anything strikes my fancy. Since I'm so absorbed in browsing, I barely notice that several other people have crowded into the area. And only after deciding on some tasty-looking cheeses do I realize that I should've taken a number right away and then started looking (but of course, then they probably would've called my number before I was ready). So I hastily pull a number out of the number-dispenser, and it's 72. I look around for the "now serving" sign, and see that it's lit up with the number 56. So I wait...And I wait. I glance up...they're now serving number 59. Wait some more...think about getting one of those ready-to-serve noodle salads, decide against it...number 61. Should I get some sliced turkey? Maybe chicken. Ooh, they have the kind with spices around the edges! What cheeses did I want again? Is it almost my turn? Ugh, they're still on number 61! I was what number again? Ah, 72. And so it goes...

Sooner or later, I'll get to place my order at the big deli counter of life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not really complaining--I mean, I decided to go to the supermarket (metaphorically speaking). I could've just picked up some packaged cheeses out of the chill case, but I went to the deli counter, and here I will wait (again, I'm speaking metaphorically here).

I just hope my number gets called soon.