Going begging

I have "Superfreak" stuck in my head. Why are they playing it so often now? Is it because it's Halloween season? And what makes it a Halloween song? Is it that weird not-quite-screeching riff that M. C. Hammer stole?

Ahem. I am trying to write a letter to beg for a job from somebody who isn't advertising they want to hire. It's harder than I'd thought it would be. I can't seem to help sounding like a sixth-grader. Considering it's writing-related, this is not promising.

In other news, I was ousted from bed this morning by the house inspector--I mean, I got out of bed because he knocked on my door. I hope he didn't find anything wrong, except maybe the batteries in the smoke detectors. It only occurred to me last week that I've lived in the house for a year and haven't once checked the batteries.

It also occurred to me, last night, that I still had mint M&Ms from last Christmas in my freezer, and if I waited much longer to eat them the stores would have fresh ones, so I took out the bag. I only ate maybe a quarter of it last night. I'm not sure how long it'll last, though.

Oh, I hope he wasn't grossed out by the piles of dirty laundry in the laundry room, too.

I had a fun meeting Friday with Huxley--now to be known as TB (ask M)--and The Other Jenny At Work playing video games. Well, it was fun except for Huxley being immature and earning his new moniker. This week we've been told no more video games, which is sad. I also told a couple of people at work--Peggy and Marie--that I'm leaving, under strict orders not to tell anyone. Peggy has her own reasons to be unhappy with work and with TB in particular lately, so she'll probably obey, and I know Marie will. Still, I'm feeling this was a risk. But I'd rather trust people than not.

I looked at a house in Toledo over the weekend. The idea of buying a house without a job continues to make me very uneasy. Right now what I want to do is get a six-month lease and house-hunt in the spring. If I go to school fall after next--I'm not going next fall--that'll be only a year and a half in which to live in the house, but it seemed to work okay for this one, so why not? We'll see. I also looked at the classifieds and didn't see anything exciting. Thus this letter that I need to improve to at least an eighth-grade level before I go home and see whether the house inspector stole any of my mint M&Ms.