Miniature Disasters

I love the light nights. 8 o'clock just doesn't feel like 8 o'clock when spring comes. I can't wait until it's warm and we can spend the evenings outside drinking wine and talking. Puppy doesn't share my enthusiasm as he gets very grumpy if he doesn't get enough sofa time.

We just got back from Ikea; we had to return something we bought at the weekend. We're picking up bits and bobs for the French house. We bought rugs, curtains, tables and these cute little art cards. Instead of the pug with the pig there is one of a pug in a feather boa though... is that a pug?

Still no word from the interview I had. I just think it's really weird now that they haven't let me know either way. They seemed to suggest that they'd make a quick decision and the only obstacle would be getting personnel to let me know before five on a Friday. I did however have one helluva awkward conversation with my boss. It went something like this. What follows is an account of what was actually said, while the words in brackets are only inferred.

Boss: Did you have an interview or something? (I defy you to lie to me!)
Me: Yeah (fuck how do you know?)
Boss: When was it? (because you've been off work sick as far as I know you cheeky biatch)
Me: Friday afternoon (*gulp*... just keep smiling and acting as if you're perfectly in the right)
Boss: *significant pause* It's just they've asked me for a reference. I'll have to tell them about your absences you know (so there, ha!)
Me: Yes, of course. (You're going to ruin this chance for me aren't you? Why me?! Oh, why me! Damn that cursed tonsillitis!)

Then she picked holes in my doctors note. Doesn't she know doctors are notoriously bad handwriters? Has she never been in a chemist?

Dang.