Interview with Y., con't.

Me: What are you now?
Y: I'm a grocer.
Me: Very cool; where is your store so I can buy things?
Y: In the police station.
Me: ...oh...?
Y: You see, I'm also a police officer.
Me: Is it hard to juggle your work?
Y: Not at all! Not at all! That's what they ask me and the answer is no.

Meanwhile, I had a dream that youngest stepchild, S., had grown into a young man with a dati leumi sort of look to him. He spent most of his time sitting in contemplation in small cafes, paying for his coffee with my checkbook. Finally he drained my account, so he called my cellphone and asked me to go over to pay the bill for him. In the dream I just sighed and went to get some change from a jar by the door; I was oddly not angry.

Meanwhile meanwhile, unemployment and unyeshivament is a nightmare. If you hear of anybody that wants to commission art or something requiring fancy lettering*, please let me know. Meanwhile, I sift through endless shitty job possibilities and remember that really bad pay is still more than no pay.


*And don't want the job yourself, if you are that person on my friendslist.