How Getting to Work Late Can Pay Off One Time Out of 10^3.

I got an interview!

I was getting ready for work this afternoon at about 3pm (sorry!) when the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang several more times. And stopped. And then rang again. So I thought it was my dad, cos he refuses to put a new tape in the answering machine, so if he's trying to call me at home, he usually lets the phone ring a dozen times, then hangs up and tries again. But it wasn't Dad. It was some guy who said, "Hi, I'm calling for Ms. Emily Watkins."
"This is she," I said, thinking it was some particularly stubborn telemarketer. But it wasn't; it was a fellow from the Consulate General of Japan who told me that my interview had been scheduled for Friday, February 13 at 4:30pm.

Happy happy happy.

And to make things weirder, Dave gave me half of a tuna sub. He told me I could have it, and that it would be down in the fridge. I said thanks. But a few minutes later, he came upstairs with a paper lunch bag. He opened it and looked inside, and said, "Now, there's a tuna sub, with extra onions, extra tomatoes--that's your salad. And a banana, some carrots, and... celery," and handed me the bag. Like, wow. The guy packed my lunch for me. His anti-depressants must be working. When he's in a bad mood, he looks at the cat and says, "Buffy... go die and spit worms." When he's in a good mood, as he apparently was this morning, he looks at the cat and says, "Buffy, you must be lonely. You're a nice kitty."

And as for Atlas Shrugged, I haven't read anything yet, but I'm about to, I swear.

My fingers still smell like tuna.