My seventeen-year silence, I mean. Or however long it's been since I last did this.
I've been home about three weeks now. The laundry is tumbling in the dryer, Chris is yelling at his parents on the phone, Steph is away, and Kevin is sleeping. So everything's more or less business as usual. Except I have no job, and thanks to the conjoined powers of no real schedule and jetlag, I've lost my internal alarm clock that kept me in bed from midnight to 8 a.m.
I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.
But I am looking. I have a month and a half to kill before school starts back up, and it would be handy to have some income so I can, you know, buy groceries and not sit around like a lump all the time. I'm looking. It's depressing, but I'm looking.
And if all else fails, I can work my old job spring quarter. Then graduate and have to find a job all over again, but I might have to do that anyway. Hooray.
It's a little late in coming, but I should talk about my trip, in all its wonderfulness. Honestly, though, it feels so long ago that I'm not sure I can do it justice. So I've decided to pull out the ol' journal and post snippets.
Along with the photo gallery, it'll be just like you were there.