15 Steps

July 31

There are 15 steps from the ground floor to my garret. So far, going up 15 steps to my room has not annoyed me. Will it continue to fail to annoy me? We shall see.

So. A productive day. I got up around 10:30 a.m. and burbled at Heather, who began the day a bit cranky (from sleeping poorly, though she assures me that I was not the cause of her poor sleeping). We became sweet and good shortly thereafter, though...

I came upstairs and did the thing I absolutely had to do today-- I wrote a review of a Bruce Boston chapbook for the next issue of Speculon. It didn't take very long. I had to keep reminding myself that it was a review, and not lit-crit; the point wasn't to expound upon the vagaries of the theme, but to tell people whether or not they should read it (they should). So I think it's a successful review in that sense, though part of me still cries out that I should have examined its validity as a feminist parable...

I was supposed to visit Karen today, but I'm not quite over my sore-throat-cough-thing, and I feared exposing the lovely Tot to my virulent germies. So I bowed out of that engagement and spent the afternoon unpacking and such. My garret is far more cozy, now. I like it a lot, though it gets hellishly hot (being tucked under the eaves and all)... I need to invest in a window fan. Though I need to get money in order to do that. Such a vicious and unbreakable circle.

I made breakfast for my lover (she says nice things about my breakfast cooking skills), a scramble of eggs and cheese and delicious fresh itty-bitty tomatoes and peppers and garlic, with potato-bread toast. Delicious fare!

Heather went to her physical therapy appointment, and I lolled indolently for a while, reading the Bridget Jones sequel, which is fun, and which has caused me to ask Heather on more than one occasion this week "Would you like to have a shag?" I wrote a bit, too-- about 600 words on the bulldozer story. I'd like to get it done in time to submit it for writing group, which technically means getting it done tomorrow, but they seem to be somewhat flexible with that "in by the first" rule, so maybe I'll be able to submit it even if I'm not hugely productive.

Heather came home, and we went out for blended vanilla lattés at Gaylord's. Oh, yum. Heather nominates the beverage for Best New Crack, and I tend to agree. In addition to the blended vanilla-y goodness, they top the drink with whipped cream and drizzle it with caramel. Caramel, people. Good stuff.

Heather helped me navigate on a drive up to the hills. I wanted to make sure I could find the location of my job interview tomorrow morning. It's only about a 15-minute drive, which is groovy, and coming back there's a beautiful view of San Francisco Bay. Y'all may recall that I had a gorgeous view of Monterey Bay on my way home from my old job in Santa Cruz. I have a thing for these jobs in the hills. Oh, I hope I get this position! Think good thoughts about me, okay? 9 a.m. Pacific time tomorrow. Wish me luck.

We came home, and Heather began cooking dinner (a truly luscious cornbread-topped ratatouille) while I shoved couches around and made the common spaces more livable. Things are shaping up around here.

Holly came over and had dinner with us, which is always fun. Then Heather and I joined Susan for celebratory beer. (it turns out she doesn't have to go into the depth of debt she'd imagined! Huzzah!). We went to George Kay's, which is nice but somewhat smoky. It doesn't bother me, but it gets to Heather. I drank, and we told drunk-theater-party stories and generally chatted amiably. When Heather began feeling nauseous, we walked Susan home (having a pretty groovy talk on the way about definitions of "horror"), and came home ourselves.

And here I am. Craving ice cream. Wondering if I should write more fiction tonight. Wondering where to send out the couple of short stories that have lately returned to me. Trying not to think overmuch about the interview tomorrow. I'm totally qualified for the position; it's just a question of whether or not they like me.

I'm likable, right?

Right. Okay. I'm gonna go bother Heather, now.