I got a letter this morning from the out of town law firm that said that they could not offer me a second interview. Which is really kind of harsh. It sort of implies, not only did you not make it, you didn't even come close.
In other news, I painted the living room white. The family that owned our house before us painted every single surface of that house some color from the Pottery Barn paint collection. I would like to see their dogs. I am sure they painted their dogs. If there was a surface in that house, it was painted a hue. The house is way too cute already on the outside (gingerbread-style) so I have to mediate the cuteness or else you would go into a diabetic coma from all the sweetness.
Why do I live in this house, you ask? Because it borders a park and any time of the day or night I can look through the park to downtown. Its nature and city all in one. And the homeless people that sleep in our yard and the flotsam and jetsam that get out of the bus at the bus stop in our yard keep things interesting. Once we made a mistake setting the sprinklers and doused the 7a.m. work crowd waiting for the bus. They retaliated by turning over the trash can into our yard. Love it! We use to have a flute player that would play while he waited for the bus. I miss him.
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