The job opportunities, they are a'rainin' frm the sky.

Aaaaand it turns out that the nursing home in town is also looking for someone in their business office, too.

The listing says "accounting/bookkeeping experience helpful," which unfortunately I don't have any experience with, but I'm leaning heavily on the "helpful" part. And my great-aunt works there part-time, so if I need a reference, I've got one who's been working there for something like twenty years now.

In other news, I have to take a shower solely to go get scotch tape, my body has been telling me I have my period for five straight days and hasn't actually given me my damn period yet, and I really should be going to get Simon for his kitty sleepover this weekend.

Blaaaargh. I feel like I need my thirteenth nap of the day.

*passes out*

My cat, the social butterfly.

So I went to my mom's house and picked up Simon, and he is now hiding under the couch making the same noise that the more sealpoint of the two cats in this video is making. (He actually looks a hell of a lot like him, too.)

I was afraid Otis would freak, since Simon was one of the cats who was at my parents' house when Otis had to come down here because all of the other cats were beating him up. But Otis has changed a lot since, and for the first hour or so he'd either keep peeking under the couch to check on Simon or just sit under there with him. And there hasn't been any fighting, which is good because if either one of them were going to start a fight, they would have done it already.

I'm hoping that he calms down a bit and comes out of his shell, because at this point it's either he stays with me or he goes to the shelter, and no one's going to take a ten-year-old Siamese no matter how "exceptionally healthy" (the vet's words) he is.

Aaaaand there was a hiss. Urgh.

So this has been my day.

Simon: *hides under futon and occasionally whimpers*
Otis: Uh, why are you hiding under there, dude?
Simon: I want to go home. *pouts*
Otis: You know, it's not so bad here.
Me: He's got a point, you know. C'mon out and we'll lie on the couch and watch TV. *wriggles him out from under the futon, lies on the couch and flips on the TV*
Otis: See? I've got her totally trained!
Simon: Noooooo, I want to go hooooooome. *crawls down and hides behind the couch*
Otis: But ... I ... you ... ugh, whatever, dude. You are the worst sleepover guest EVER.

So now Simon is hiding behind the couch -- still -- and Otis is sitting on the back of my computer chair as per usual and succeeding admirably in not rolling his eyes, although given the way he's been acting about Simon hiding behind the couch, he's probably rolling his eyes in annoyance when I'm not looking.