I didn�t get the respite job, the one with the 14 year old. I filled out the two applications I received in the mail over the past couple of days and have to get stamps for them. Of course, it doesn�t really matter that I filled them out today. They can�t go out until Tuesday anyway because of the holiday. It astounds me that all but two of the jobs for which I am applying require serious background checks. I suppose that�s what I get for wanting to work in human services. Agencies have to check you out to make sure that you haven�t molested anybody and that you�ve never assaulted or been investigated for anything similar. From what I got from the interview the other day, though, was that working residential may in fact be better than working vocational. Yeah, you have to deal with excreta, but they�ll pay for your outings with clients, knowing that were you not with them, you more than likely wouldn�t be out paying for stuff. When I worked vocational, you had to pay your own way all the time on recreational outings. When the unfairness of this was brought up at staff meetings, the agency director would tell us �you�re not in human services for the money.� She was a real bitch.

I�ve simmered down since this morning. Luke still thinks I should send the offender an email that says simply �I keeeeeeeeeel you!� but I�m not going to do that. Knowing the absurdity of the person, she�d think I meant it and call the FBI even though 2,000 miles separate us.

Last night Luke brought me home toffee bars, cheesecake, and a sandwich. The sandwich, which I attempted to have for breakfast/lunch, turned out to be pretty gross, so I had to chuck it. Luke had warned me that the sandwiches tend to be more than mediocre, but he thought he�d let me have a stab anyway. I was happy to see him when he got home. With the week I�ve had I have been missing him a lot during the day. I got goofy when I was in the shower and told him that I had just thought of a new band name (as a bit of back story, whenever one of us says something that is both odd and intelligent simultaneously, Luke will say �that�s my band�s name� even though he possesses no musical talent). He asked what it was and I blurted out �Chili dog Gestapo�. I thought it was hilarious, but he just called me crazy and left.

I think that as the warm weather encroaches upon me, I get more homesick. I want an ocean to drive to and to jump in, clothed or suited. I want nights cool enough that you never need air conditioning and a fan in the window will do. I miss the summertime scramble for a job that will pay. It wasn�t a matter of necessity, but one of extra cash so you could buy that cute pair of shoes you saw at Take It Easy, Baby, the bald owner checking you out as you walked around. I suppose I only make it worse on myself by perusing the paper. It�s hard to believe that pretty much the last of the kids I knew are now almost high school graduates. I recognize last names and a few first names, as those of my peers, but those kids are foreign to me, relegated to the position of obnoxious sibling.

I finally figured out the secret to keeping my hair from being all Einstein-y and getting charged with static every time I run my hands through it: pomade. Okay, so it�s not exactly news, but I had forgotten how well this stuff works to tame the wild beast. I�m not laying it on like George Clooney�s character in O, Brother, Where Art Thou?, either. I�m just wetting my hands and smoothing the tiniest little bit around to dilute it and then finger combing. Works wonders, I say.

I smell grape jelly and it�s completely out of line. Huh, just my empty juice glass. Fecking cheap ass cranberry �blend�.