future wax!

It appears that my immune system is defeating my malady all on its own. All on its own, that is, with the help of Tylenol, Zicam, Vicks, Robitussin, and vitamin C. I highly recommend all of these products. Even if they turn out to be merely psychosomatic.

Graduate application almost done. A few more touches. Whew.

I will also be looking for a new job. I won't be quitting Ann Taylor, but this is the slow season and I can't be guaranteed enough hours. Plus I'm tired of being desperately poor. Poor or fair to middling I could deal with, but desperately poor is no longer satisfying. I'll be inquiring today of a position I heard about driving mentally handicapped individuals to doctor's appointments and so on. This job, according to the grapevine, starts at thirty grand. If that doesn't work, I'll be hitting up the classifieds. My BA should get me something.

And just when I thought my life was nice and slow and regular...

Wretched Tim stopped by work yesterday. I've never spelled out the whole story, so here it is in a nutshell: Wretched Tim is a Handsome Young Man I met at the Boring Church a couple of months ago. It seemed that interest was sparking: He invited me over to his newly bought house a few times, nothing remotely compromising happened, just fun times of hanging out. Yet he didn't call very often, he never picked me up to take me anywhere, and we never really went on a date. He travels a lot with his job, so I decided slow was best and determined not to be the pursuer, since that's gotten me in trouble before.

Just before Christmas he had a housewarming party at his home, which I was unable to attend due to a late night of work. At church the day of the party I offered to swing by afterward, but he said, "Well, most everyone will have gone home, so there's no point in you coming over." (He also rejected the cookies I had baked and brought to send along even though I couldn't be there. He rejected my cookies!) I was good and hurt for a day or two, but then I shrugged it off and went on with my life. He went home to California for Christmas and I hadn't heard from him since. Then, after five weeks of silence, he pops in at work.

Hell. Apparently in Wretched Tim World it's perfectly reasonable to leave a girl hanging for over a month while he goes home and travels for business and does whatever an ambitious busy person does, and then come back to South Bend and look her up and expect her to be thrilled. I greeted him coolly and politely. When he asked if I'd be at Club 23 with the grad students that night, I said that I wasn't sure; I was fighting some kind of bug and was afraid the smoke would upset my lungs, but it depended on what my roommate wanted to do. He said he was leaving on business for the week but we would catch up when he got back. I blandly said I'd be around and he left. Then I fumed for the rest of the day.

I'd rather he had decided I was not what he was looking for, as I thought he had, than think so little of me as to reserve me for whatever scraps of time he has left over in South Bend. I'm better than that.