goodbye, fair fish.

One of my cousin Emma's new fish died the other day. She was distraught, sobbing and yelling how she didn't want a stupid fish in the first place, she'd wanted a DOG.

The fish is in Heaven, my aunt Kelly explained. And then Emma looked at my aunt like she was crazy, pointed at the corner of the fish tank where the fish-that-was was floating, and yelled "No he's not! He's right there!"

Ah, so literal. Of course! How could he be in Heaven? He's right there! And I'd never realized before how Emma must think of Papa's death: Papa leaving one day, catching a train to Heaven, leaving the rest of us behind. Why did he have to go? She's been asking this often lately. I didn't want him to. I want him to be here and do puzzles with me.

How do you explain the business of dying to a five year old? You can't, really. Kelly told Emma she was bringing the fish back to the fish store after Emma went to school. Emma reminded her that she'd better hurry since the fish has to make it to Heaven and all. Can't miss the train.

Holiday time and no one's feeling very holidayish around here. I've always loved Christmas, the music and the decorations and the shopping, but this year I keep forgetting what time of year it is until I hear a song or see a wreath. My mother keeps walking around the house apologizing for not being in the spirit, telling us she's not in the mood to shop so we'll probably just get a few things, or maybe just money. This has been her line to us since we were old enough not to believe in Santa Claus, but this is the first year I believe her. I don't really mind, I don't need anything. I just feel bad because she feels guilty about it.

Should I make her put up the decorations? I don't really want to myself, but should I make myself do it for her? Would it make her feel better? I don't know. I wish I knew. There should be an instruction manual for such things, Dealing With Parental Holiday Grief: Merriment Amidst Melancholy. Every morning we get ready to leave for work and tell each other that tonight we're going to put them up, and every night we end up sitting together at the kitchen table snacking on Triscuits and declaring that tomorrow we'll have more energy.

Part of me keeps thinking: There's a disturbance in the Force. Something's not right in every family gathering, something missing, something wrong, and I have to keep reminding myself that it won't go away. Things are different now.

Anyway. What brought this on? Am hormonal and thusly wallowing. Moving on.

In other news: self esteem is still heartily intact. I got the call at my temp job today that I didn't get the stupid job I interviewed for last week. You know, the interview that went over two hours? That one. I'd decided over the weekend that I wouldn't want the job anyway, so it wasn't the not-getting it that bothered me.

"He doesn't think you have the experience to handle the office when he's not there," Temp Agency Woman told me.

"What, you mean the office that will consist of just him? His calls? His paperwork? Pardon me while I go pick up the SIX OTHER LINES THAT ARE BLINKING RIGHT NOW and then GET BACK TO YOU IN A TIMELY MANNER because I CAN HANDLE ANSWERING THE PHONE! What kind of crack is he on?"

Maybe those weren't my exact words.

But still! I was outraged. Outraged! I can't handle the office when he's not there? What does that mean? My first week at the Skeevy Law Firm, Mr. Boss was out of the office and I was answering his phones! Returning calls! Arranging adjournments! And I won't be able to HANDLE IT when Mr. Long Winded is gone for an afternoon? WhatEVA!

I seriously felt like calling him up. Also? Why keep me at an interview for two and a half hours if you're not going to hire me? If you don't think I'm experienced enough to handle an office for an afternoon (an office that consists of, well, JUST HIM), why not just let me be on my merry way? Why make me smile through your completely inaccurate interpretations of classic films? Why force me to SMILE WINNINGLY while you imply that what you really want is a girl Friday?

Am I not GOOD ENOUGH to be your girl Friday? WhatEVER.

This was all I thought about after I got off the phone. It didn't even strike me until much later that I probably should have had a moment of doubting myself, wondering if I'm Just Not Good Enough. Instead, I just wanted to call him up and give him a piece of my mind.

In yet other news: Tomorrow is the last day at my receptionist's job. What will I bore you about now that I'm done with that? I'm sure I'll find something.

beware, porcelain god

Breaking news: I broke the toilet.

Not, blessedly, by sitting on it. Though I have developed a nasty candy-cane habit and my stint as a receptionist upped my time-spent-sitting-on-my-ass quotient a great degree, my girth has not gotten such that it is a danger to bathroom fixtures. But! Apparently I do not know my own strength. All I wanted to do was flush the toilet! And I BROKE it! The inside of the handle thingy, that is. I cracked it! I so felt like Clark Kent first realizing his superpowers. "Able to break plastic rod toilet fittings with a single flush!"

Now in order to get it to work, one must pry off the back and lift the rod manually. Fun times! I tried to repair it with a Band-Aid already, proud of myself for thinking of such a MacGuyver solution, but. Well. It kinda didn't work. Which is why I'm a sucky MacGuyver.

In other news: Have finished up receptionist's assignment and now again join the ranks of the unemployed. My last day was crazy busy, with lots of insane phone calls. None from the local psychiatric facility like yesterday, but I did have my suspicions about one: A man called, said that he was a neurosurgeon who had just had his hands severed by a city bus and was looking for an attorney for a potential lawsuit. Turned out to be one of the Boss Attorney's friends, and there was laughter all around.

The Big Boss ATtorney at the firm I just finished up at is rather known around these here parts as a rather skeevy defense attorney. Meaning, he fights hard for his guy and is the one you want in your corner should you be put in such a situation, but on a personal (and often professional) level, he's kind of an asshole. I got to witness this firsthand as he engaged in a battle with another local attorney, also of the skeevy persuasion (he did a will for a wealthy woman and when it was read, he and his children were in it and got bunches of money), via the mail. Which I was to open as part of my duties. Lots of tossed barbs, like "I have never spoken ill of you behind your back. Nor have I lied about you, except for when in the past clients asked me what I thought of your professional abilities. I'll be honest from now on" (from Mr. Will) and "[Mr. Will] has never even won a case!" (from Mr. Big Boss) and "This is WAR!" (Mr. Will). It was very exciting.

On my way into work today, the guy in the parking garage gave me a Christmas gift for paying for monthly parking. This was very nice since I didn't pay for parking at all and have only been there nine days. And the gift was truffles! Should I have handed them back because I don't deserve them? I argue that it was the beginning of the workday and it would have been doing greater disservice to humanity by handing the bag back and tying up the line of cars for the parking garage. The more difficult question: Why did I not tip him on my way out, after getting the gift in the morning? I was probably supposed to! And I didn't. I suck. Oh well. He'll never see me again.

The people at the temp job were very nice to me, complimented me muchly. They all remarked at my speed-reading. I wonder if they were trying to make a not-so-subtle comment that I shouldn't have been stealth reading books in the first place, but hey! I asked permission! I got the all-clear! Anyway. Mr. Big Boss came out at the end and wished me well and it's funny, no matter how many times he called me "Dear" and "Sweetheart", my Asshole-O-Meter wouldn't stop ding-dinging. YOu know how some people do that? No matter how overtly nice they are to you, you know there is assholeness lurking beneath the surface? Whereas another big partner, Mr. Decent Boss, was not quite as overtly friendly but gave off much more of a worthwhile-human-being vibe.

In other news: I need to get a new hairdresser. I went on Wednesday and she spent a solid ten minutes bad-mouthing attorneys in general. Saying that they're all crappy individuals, that she's probably known one in her whole life who was a decent individual, that they've got to basically be an asshole to go into the field and I just sat there, horror-struck, trying to hedge around her comments, all "Well, it's a very difficult job," etc etc, without blurting out "I know plenty of nice attorneys! Like, say, MY FATHER!" But I knew that would make her feel horribly awkward and so I couldn't.

But still, it annoyed me! And also she's expensive, and I have to pay for parking, and I don't really like how she cuts my hair anymore, and that was just The Last Straw. Don't be dissing my Dad! I will stop using your services! I am just that much a badass.

Anyway. I'm absolutely distraught over the Firefly cancellation, but I won't dwell on it here. That's an LJ entry for another day.