Stress

I'll have to try and remember not to use this library computer again if I have a choice. The mouse is pretty messed up.

The job I applied for at the Sealife Center looks like it's going to fall through. The heavy machinery guy says his wife doesn't want him hiring anyone, but especially not young girls. A friend of mine told me he's had "problems" with them in the past, which is a bit... well, yeah...

Woodcutter Mike is leaving town Thursday (gone till September), and Rolf hired me to scrub some windows down (box windows that are waiting to be installed, but are in pretty bad shape right now) by Friday. I'm planning an Anchorage trip to play a game with Rye and Brian on Saturday, and after that, I may just head up to Fairbanks, I guess. Unless I find something else.

So as if that's not enough to stress over, Peter's mad at me... again. Not really sure why he's so upset this time. Meh.

I've begun rereading the Book of Lost Things, by John Connolly. It's one of the best books I've ever read. It's not terribly funny (in fact, most of it is pretty sad), but it's an amazing book anyway. It's very well written, and it has a lot of messages and intertwining themes and stuff.... If you have the time to read it, I would recommend the book to pretty much anyone.

I guess that's about all. I should probably go start bundling wood so Mike has something to sell before he leaves for his fishing trip.