And As the Cathedral Has Spoken, Wishing Well to All Us Sinners, And Where the Sight Grew Silent, 'Til Next Year's Big Human Winner

I was having the shittiest day today. One of my friends told me that based on the salary I was earning, it will take about a year and a half for me to find a new job (that sounds like one of those rules of thumb like "it will take you half the amount of time you were in the relationship to get over it") and I showed up super-early for work only to be unable to get into the room to do the work, thereby wasting thirty minutes when I could have been sleeping. On the walk to the bus station, I felt stabby.

But then...I talked to Goose. I adore that man. Usually, when I'm in a foul mood, only my brother can coax me out of it. I call my brother the Human Prozac, and now I discover that Goose shares his magical powers of emotional alchemy. He had a lot of help from the news that he might (he stresses "might") be coming to the United States in October for some conferences. I am beside myself at the thought and ecstatic over his easy assumption that we'll be seeing each other if he does come. He isn't sure that he'll be able to come because he's currently the "reserve" person, which I guess means he's first on the waiting list. Happily, his boss is having some passport issues that Goose thinks will not be resolved in time for the boss to come, which means Goose could come (thank you, intense United States visa requirements, for your intensity and exclusionary-ness). Goose plans to break his boss's legs to keep him from coming to the United States; I am going to have him placed on a terrorism watch list.

Goose sounds hopeful about coming to the United States. I hope at least some of his excitement (and by "some," I mean "99%") is because of me and not because of the chance to visit Las Vegas.