It's been a pretty shitty weekend.
Friday morning I called to confirm the interview I had scheduled out of town. I figured I was not driving two hours one way to find out they had forgotten about me and dude was on vacation or something. Good thing I called. Even though I was staring at the email that said 3pm, they had me down for 2pm.
The job would be awesome. It's plaintiff work, mostly med mal and employment (yay for not working for "the man"), but also plenty of family law and some criminal stuff. I really like the dude, he seemed polite and down-to-earth, and unless he's completely bi-polar and turns into Mr. Hyde after drinking some magic potion, I think he'd be a good boss and mentor. He said he'd expect his associate to actually practice law, not just be motion hour bitch and deposition bitch (like at stupid insurance defense firms that make you go to 8am depositions three hours away in boofoo). He would have me sign up to do guardian ad litem and pro bono criminal work so that I would get actual courtroom experience, build relationships with judges and other attorneys in the area, and be first chair, not doing all the grunt work while he does all the fun stuff. Basically, the job sounds kick-ass. Except for the location. It took me 3/4 of a tank of gas to get there and back. Granted, we could live there during the week and come home on the weekends, but I do want Cora to go to school here where there's more opportunity. Anyway, it just depends how much money we're talking. He said he would check what the going rate for associates was these days and if I get a call-back we'd talk money then. So, we'll see.
Last night something really sad happened. My pet rabbit died. She was 12 years old, so it's not like it was sudden and unexpected. (Rabbits live on average between 6 to 8 years. I think the oldest they'll live is about 13.) But it's sad, especially finding a beloved pet dead. I loved that rabbit. Husband didn't. She bit him once, and he never got over it. I got her when I was a junior in high school, she was an Easter bunny. I named her Sierva Maria after a character in a Garcia Marquez novel, but my mom could never remember her name, and started calling her Bunny. Anyway, when we first got her, we litter box trained her and she had full run of the house. However, rabbits are nocternal, so there was much zipping through the house in the middle of the night. Finally, she got big enough to jump on the beds in the middle of the night, and the first time she did, she jumped right onto my mom in the middle of the night. Mom screamed, Bunny went flying across the room, it was very traumatic for everyone involved. Bunny started being locked in her crate at night after that one.
She and Mom had a love-hate relationship. My mother, who cleans obsessively, would vacuum Bunny. That's right, she would take the vacuum attachment and suck the excess hair from her. Bunny didn't like this at first, and growled at her. (Yes, rabbits growl. They're ferocious like that.) But eventually she got used to it and just sat there patiently. She was snuggly (as long as you didn't lift her off the ground, rabbits don't like heights), especially when I was sick, she'd lay beside me in bed or on the couch. She loved shredding/eating paper. I let her eat all of my Spanish flashcards ("tarjetas de 'flash'") after taking AP Spanish, and having a flashcard for every stinkin' word in the Spanish language. 99.9% of which I have since forgotten.
Anyway, it is sad. Especially since Bella, who is 8 years old, is now all alone. She's never been a social rabbit, in fact, I'm pretty sure that other than being the biped that fills up the food dish and water bottles, I'm dead to her. Bella took to Bunny immediately, so I'm worried that now that Bunny's gone, she won't last much longer since she's pretty old too. Which will make Husband happy since he hates having rabbits. I honestly don't think I'd get rabbits again (they like to destroy wood trim, wires, furniture, etc.), but if I did, I think I'd get one of those giant ones that would like being groomed and walk on a leash. Or an angora, so I could sheer it and make sweaters. Heh. Seriously though, anymore pets is out of the question. Family Dog is annoying as crap to every other creature, and any creature smaller than Cora is likely to be picked up by the throat, much as my niece does to her poor cat.
The final weekend fail though was waking up at 8:30 this morning and violently throwing up. Not good timing to be sick, since tonight was our Barrister's Ball. Ugh. I was still sick by this afternoon and had to cancel my 3:30 hair appointment and go back to sleep for awhile. Husband couldn't go to Barrister's because he's working weekends now, so I was meeting my Hawt Date at the hotel. I managed to get out of bed at 5pm, fashion an updo that (mostly) stayed up even though my stupid full bottle of hairspray wouldn't squirt (probably because I never use hairspray), do the whole make-up thing, get into my boobalicious dress and head out in the snow.
I lasted three hours before deciding I feel like shit and I want to go lay in bed instead of dancing to music played by possibly the worst DJ I've ever experienced. (Who the hell plays Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" during dinner, rather than later on during the night when everyone's trashed and singing along? And it was a techno version too which was just wrong.) Anyway, it was about 2 hours and 55 minutes longer than a friend of mine lasted, because she apparently got the same stomach bug as me (which has been circulating around the law school... stupid law school plague) and ended up throwing up in the bathroom stall and unfortunately on her dress. Granted, this happens every year to someone who's trashed (as well as in the middle of the hallway and in potted plants), but this girl is very religious, doesn't drink more than one glass of wine ever, and hadn't even had a sip of alcohol anyway. Even so, our SBA president apparently chewed her out before realizing she was actually sick, not drunk, and our waiter even had to come to her defense, like, she literally just got here and he hadn't even brought her wine yet. I felt so bad for her. Her boyfriend flew in from Baltimore for the ball, we had gone dress shopping earlier in the week and found this beautiful navy blue dress and she looked gorgeous. Stupid law school plague. This is the third time I've had the stomach funk, I'm getting damn tired of it. Surely I'd have some sort of immunity by now, ugh.
Anyway, I would have pictures, but I left my camera in the car. (Again, fail.) But one of my friends has the crazy sophisticated camera and he took lots of pictures. I'm just sad I was unable to cause scandal. I was all set for drunken debauchery, finishing the evening at the drag show at a nearby gay bar until I sobered up and could drive home. Sadly, I didn't even get to drink. I made my date promise he would drink my share and do something scandalous and make sure there were pictures. Sigh. Weekend do-over definitely needed!