Interviews and blue bins - the cycle of life

Early Saturday morning, pot of Just Us! jungle blend coffee scenting the apartment, sunshine streaming in the window, no snow ploughs this morning hence silence on the street, blog.

Perfection.

Himself is up and out already, gone to a job interview. Those of you who follow this blog will know that Himself has been assiduously trawling websites and personal contacts in search of a job these past few weeks. He actually got one this week, but the wages were so low it would have cost us money to send him there every day, so he graciously declined.

I'd imagine it is very difficult being a red-blooded, hunter-gatherer type male whose girlfriend is currently paying the bills. But I don't think it should be so difficult that you'd work beneath your ability and worth to get out from under it.

It was a bit stressful for Himself I think, turning down a job that was THERE FOR THE TAKING. So I twisted his arm a little, because I wanted to take the stress out of the decision for him. And the relief when it was done was visible.

Anyways, in the way of things here in Nova Scotia (and everywhere else I'd imagine), I arrived home from one of the shittest days in work ever, in a state of pure despair at life, to find him happily wading through a sheaf of interview offers.

Six in one day.

Yes six.

Has anyone ever in the history of the world been offered six job interviews in the space of three hours? Apart from David Beckham when he announced he didn't like living in Manchester anymore?

I have concluded that the second Friday in February must be 'get off my arse and call some applicants about an interview for that job I've been paid to advertise for the last month' day here in Nova Scotia.

Himself is all tail up now, as one would be when one goes from 'worried whether there's something WRONG with you' to 'in huge demand because there's a labour crisis in the province' in the space of twenty four hours.

Also, the ONE is one of them, the ONE being a good job that Himself would like, that pays well and offers the kind of supervisory responsibility of which he is more than capable.

So whatever kind of juju you use for these things, lash some of it on us for the next week please.

Because whatever about getting a job, getting the ONE is the icing on the cake.

And we like iced cakes in this house.

I made two chocolate cakes, with added chocolate and melted dark Lindt chocolate spooned on top with a sprinkling of ground almonds, the other night and they are both gone.

I don't know what surprised me more. The fact that I made two cakes. Or the fact that they were so nice they lasted thirty six hours.

I shouldn't be surprised they were nice I suppose. The Queen Mother makes a mean chocolate cake and taught me well.

I suppose I was surprised they were popular.

Although some of the people living in this house LOVE chocolate.

Also I brought one of them in to work yesterday, as I knew it was going to be one of the shittest days in work ever, so I thought my colleagues should have something nice to get them through the day.

I. Am. Getting. So. Effing. Domesticated. It. Is. Effing. Scary.

The reason work was so shittest day ever was because we had to clear out the library and the filing room in order for the renovators to move in and re-arrange the space.

Think twenty years of random dumping of file boxes. Think dust hippos. Think paper cuts. Think hours and hours of standing at the recycle bin ripping off plastic binder spirals. Think endless hours of removing steel filing clips. Think of doing all this in a tiny room with your colleagues.

Normally I wouldn't really mind this kind of thing, it being an excuse to not do any real work. But Lady Moonbeam is in town this week, so think all of the above with a grinding pain in my lower back and abdomen and a complete absence of any sense of humour.

The Chief of Staff understood the signals emanating from Queenie well enough to order pizza for lunch.

I like the way he is starting to adapt to my way of doing things!!

Our leader and a couple of our MLAs had turned up just before lunch and stayed to chat. Not for the pizza. God No. Intellectual conversation was the hook there. Definitely.

So we all had pepperoni slices and Sprite and chocolate cake and talked about This is Spinal Tap for thirty minutes.

I must say I do like working for a political leader who is happy to sit with his dusty, grungy team who are a bit stinky after a hard morning at the recycle bin, and shout 'this one goes all the way up to eleven' and correct their interpretation of the lyrics of Stonehenge when his mouth is not full of pizza and chocolate cake.

I can't imagine Rodney MacDonald doing that.

Then I had to go back to the recycle bin for another four hours. Which was devastating.

Himself has just called to say he got the job he interviewed for twenty minutes ago, which we had agreed is the NEXT BEST to the ONE, the interview for which is Tuesday. So we're set now either way.

HOORRRAAYYYY!!

Of course, this means he'll be earning more than me again now...

I kinda liked being the top cat!