Job update:

(One day, I will write about something else. I PROMISE.)

Interviews yesterday: Went all right, I think. I felt regrettably flustered during my phone interview, didn't say things I wanted to say, and kicked myself the instant a few things came out of my mouth. I'm hoping I came off as a lot more coherent than I think I did, 'cause I really want this one. My library interview was far more typically "interview," complete with obnoxious questions like 'Which is more important, creativity or efficiency, and why?' I ought to also know something else about that one by Friday. Honestly, with the other things I have on the burner, and how peripheral that one is to my real interests, I'm perfectly happy to be turned down by them (which doubtless means they'll offer me a job).

Sent off my CV to Southwest last night, and faxed an application for the UT job this morning. I just called to make sure they got it, and it's a good thing I did; the last three pages hadn't gone through, for some reason. Should be all set now.

In other news, I wanted terribly to go back to bed today after feeding dogs. But because I didn't have the heart to slay the wasp that was flying around my room, I fled instead. ._. So now, I'm up. Productivity through avoidance!

Why You Should Not Let Me Near Your Yard:

Clothes are sewn, and seeds are sown, but I just cut the grass. Has the lawn been mowed, or mown?

(For those of you who have seen my current place of residence: No, not the whole lawn. More like 1/16th of it.)

(For those of you who have not seen my current place of residence: We have a five-acre lawn. We use a tractor to mow most of it. And my mother is too smart, or maybe just knows me too well, to give me a crash course in how to use that before leaving town.)

Having firmly ensconsed myself as the nemesis of all things electronic, I'm now moving on to terrorizing machinery: Today I also discovered that it is indeed possible to incite the lawnmower to mutiny by driving it over too much grass. Fortunately for me, instead of exploding in this instance, it merely shuts down. I apologized nicely to it, and we moved on, somewhat less ambitiously.

This sort of thing is good to know. It's similar to a situation I had at the zoo, during which I discovered -- the hard way -- that pressure washers require oil to operate properly. (Hey, nobody told me this. How the hell was I supposed to know?) My first clue that anything was wrong was when, one day while I was cleaning the penguin den, I heard a loud *KERCHUNK!* and the pressure washer suddenly shut down. Upon closer investigation, the engine had... um... exploded.

No penguins were hurt during the making of this memory.

It's because of people like me that men don't let women near their power tools. Because of people like me, sensible people like alliath, who (though they may cruelly slaughter their grass in a vegetarian holocaust) are capable of wielding gas-driven appliances without mechanical bloodshed, are penalized. To all power-tool-capable women, I apologize profusely for my part in being one of those responsible for the existence of a stereotype.

I make folks like Gippal, Mustadio, and Satsuki roll in their graves. I truly do. There is no way that the Al Bhed would let me get away with running for office, ever.

On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I've got full, unwavering political support from the Junkeons.