So the hiring process at school has been moving more slowly than the federal investigation into Ken Lay. Ha. No, that's not funny, actually, as it means I'm still listless, waiting for news one way or the other about whether or not I have a career ahead of me in teaching proper, as I just don't see myself happy another year at this here school where nothing ever quite gets done, and we wait for better candidates, letting slip the decent ones, and end up hiring in utter desperation.

I've been trying to get back into shape and puttering around in the kitchen: only Joephet would be able to completely reject a dish cooked for him, all for the heterodox sin of mixing savories with sweets, even as I am frantically trying to juggle roommate interviews (I think we've signed a Greek opera singer) with a broiler and downplaying the presence of a Chun-Li-playing squealing Pilipino clad only in boxerbriefs behind the curtains. My former academic and artistic ambitions have dwindled considerably, and I have been trying to figure out which matinees to go to in my freedom, but find that there are none actually suitable, as somehow the Notebook seems like something to take Joephet along for, though it's not clear what he would actually find acceptable, as he has rejected every movie in creation and my limited bargain-basement collection as boring and too slow-paced.