Interesting job interview yesterday. The good side was it seems like a nice place with nice people, and I felt pretty comfortable. The bad part is it’s in line with the junk on my resume I had on which I had thought I might turn my back.

Having felt pretty backstabbed when I left Boston (hidden pun definitely intended), I can’t shake my wariness. Everything still lingers like the worst of bad breakups. I just have to remember that like with shitty guys, shitty jobs need not be my fate. Maybe giving up a 15-year track record (successful I might add) in one field is as logical as swearing celibacy after dating yet another asshole.

One indication that it’s not black and white — the recruiter I’m working with sent me email, while I was at the interview he scheduled, about “National Slap a Co-Worker Day.”

Meanwhile, my sister is here visiting from the wilds of Wyoming. I think she might have been in the sticks too long since things like non-white people seem surprising to her, but coyotes don’t (we saw one in the Santa Cruz Mountains). She’s mentioned a couple of times that there are a lot of Asians. (I guess that would include the population of the house where she’s staying.)

The most interesting thing about spending time with my sister is how remarkably different we are. For example, I own NO pinkish, floral pants and, not one, but I think two or three pairs of coordinating pink, coral and/or green sandals. I would bet a tidy sum that I never, ever, fucking ever will.

Well, I might. Like if terrorists took over the world and demanded a national costume of pinkish, coral, giantly flowered capri pants. I would wear them if the only other option was death.