Mao and I have been taking it in turns to slip into depression. It could be a virus, maybe I've caught cat flu or feline aids, that would explain the strange drawn out minor cough that yesterday turned into a sore throat. I've never had a cold with this 'pattern' before, but I suppose they mutate frequently.
Interviewed for two jobs, a third lined up next week. Another may come through with an interview shortly after that. They involve big choices that twist around my brain like earthworms. Having options seems good when you don't, but it ramps up your blood pressure when you don't exactly know which one you'd rather take. It's a policy versus court thing, I won't go further as I've whinged about this in previous navel gazing posts. I have found that staring down the barrel of a job in criminal defence law has made me aware of all the ways I don't fit the stereotype small-l liberal when it comes to law and order.
I think repeat violent offenders should be locked in a psychiatric institution until they are safe. That sort of thing.
Beloved and I have strained at little things, pointless arguments erupt through the surface expressing the magma underneath. Not about us, I'm pretty sure of that. We're both just a little over the house search, the endless disappointments and almost-not-quites. The people taking loans five times their salaries in order to pip those of us who try to cling to a modicum of common sense. And maybe it's an Autumn thing, who knows?
At least, while Mao and the two of us are by turns grumpy, little Minh-Minh is a ball of up-beat, big-eyed fluffy love. Just watching her jumping around on the lawn warms my soul.
ribs: Miriam Schapiro, Judy Chicago, et. al, Sheet Closet,... - ribs: Miriam Schapiro, Judy Chicago, et. al, *Sheet Closet*, from Womanhouse, Los Angeles, 1972
3 hours ago