It's cold now, outside, and it's raining. It's not that pleasant sort of spring rain, either... it's a chilling, icy bout of little crystalline drops that feel as if they're puncturing your skin where they touch you.
I went to Burrelle's again today, for an interview. I think that they just don't want to hire me. Really. "Come in for an application. Come in for a reading test. Come in for an interview. Take this, read it, and call us tomorrow to let us know if you're still interested." Either they don't like me or they're trying to tell me something. But nobody was leaping out of chairs, screaming at me to save myself, to run, quickly, before they let the rabid African dikdiks out of their cages. So I suppose it's the former.
Strange, though, that the woman who interviewed me was my old Irish dance teacher's mother-in-law.
And now I have "It's a Small World" stuck in my head.
And now you're all going to yell at me, because you do, too.