Worka Worka Worka

I've been heads-down all day, all week, really, and will be into the next one as well. I'm going on an interview for a full-time in an office type job next week, just to see, really, if it would be right for me. I'm nervous because the last person in the position last approximately two days before angering a muckity muck and getting canned. I wonder, what is G-d trying to tell me here? That it's another crazy tyrant I'll be working for, and so don't even bother? Because you know, I'm liking the freelancing, and business is finally starting to pick up. Interesting jobs, too. Do I really want to be commuting in a car every day?

But then I think health insurance would be nice.

But so would getting laid. Not as part of a job, of course. That was just my vagina talking. Don't mind her.