The rare Scotland sun is shining down on me today.
Brightly.
I rested on the couch this morning and when I opened my eyes, I thought new lights had been turned on in my house. But it was just the sun. My father-in-law picked me up to take me to their house, and I didn't recognize the way because I've never seen it so lit up. Once a picture of the roundabout in the rainy dark flashed in my head, I located myself in Port Glasgow. I'd never have recognized it otherwise.
The sun is good. Thank you, Jesus.
Well, in my last post I was a bit of a Negative Nancy. Today I'm much more of a Positive Pam. I have good news.
I have a job! I will begin Monday working at Flava (pronounced FLAY-vah, like I'm a GANG-sta) Coffee Shop. An easy job. A no-thinking job. No data to report, no calculation (except change, which the till does for you-- and no tax added too. Easy peasy pie), no computers... Just me in black trousers serving customers a warm cup of tea and sweeping the floors now and again. I'll find a computer job later-- for now, I'm just saving up for Paris.
Yes, Paris. I'm going to Paris with the ladies from the church on 7 December. I'm gonna practice ma française avec les garçons dans les pubs au les cafés.
I also now have money to go see The Polyphonic Spree. Yes. Finally. I've been with the Spree since they began-- I even have a promo copy of "The Beginning Stages..." that I received with some Tripping Daisy stuff I'd ordered from the now non-existant Deadfly Merch. This, my friends, means I've owned The Beginning Stages before any of the rest of you. And finally I shall see them. It's a bit necrophiliac--it's like I'm finally seeing Tripping Daisy, long dead, in its afterlife, singing with the angels.
I should get some hits after using that word...
In other news, Scott is going to a videogame-playing party tomorrow, and I shall be left alone at the house bored. I might con him out of some of his money and go to Glasgow to do some shopping. Anyone wanna come with me?
That's it for now. Friends in Arkansas, I miss you.
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