The following is why, when you're studying for your nurse practitioner boards, you don't want your newly-unemployed bored house frau sitting around bugging you.
Husband: (muttering to himself) A malaria question? Seriously?
Me: Ooh, ooh! I know the answer! Mosquitoes!
Husband: (blinks) Okay. And do you happen to know the fever pattern of malaria?
Me: Uh, you get one. Duh. Like all this medicine stuff is hard. Whatever. (eye roll)
Me: No need to thank me. If you need any more help, I'm here all day.
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Cora is obsessed with Finding Nemo, and she has these little plastic fish she carries around everywhere that she named Nemo and Dory. We took her to the aquarium a few weeks ago and have taken her to the pet store a few times to see the fish there.
Since I now live in one place, and am an unemployed house frau, I figured I have the time to devote to a new pet. So, we took a trip to the pet store this evening and bought Cora a male Siamese Fighting Fish. She named him Dory. He's blue. I suppose if he'd been orange, he'd be called Nemo. So, we're calling Dory "her" because Cora doesn't know any better anyway, and in the movie, Dory's a girl. I consider it a precursor to her future understanding of why that boy is dressed like a girl, and we call him "her," but she's really a he. (Auntie Steven gets to explain that one, and likely soon, since Cora already knows the phrase "drag queen.")
Cora and Dory the Transgendered Fish
And, yes, we had to repeatedly tell her not to shake the bag. I am raising Darla the Fish Killer.
Dory made it home with minimal trauma, and into her very own bowl. We learned not to touch the bowl, or the water, and Cora was able to give Dory her dinner. When it was time for bed, Cora was very upset, until she realized that Dory will be sleeping in her room (up high, on the top shelf of her bookcase, where Cora can't reach her). That got very big smiles, and when we tucked her in, she was lying in her bed, looking up at the fish bowl at Dory, telling Dory "night-night."
* * *
Tomorrow (through Friday), I'll be attending the State Bar Association Convention. Stupidly, I signed up for the free breakfast, which means I have to be there at 7:30. That was so dumb. But, at least this week I'll get to see one of my friends from law school/grad school who has been living in DC. She needs her CLE creds, so she'll be in town for the convention. We're going out Thursday night for a girls' night, it shall be epic.
Today, I got my first [of what I assume will be many] rejection letters. I heard there was an associate position open at this one firm, but either they already hired, or they just aren't that into me. Of course, in the rejection letter they said my resume was "impressive." Yeah, whatev. Do firms ever send out rejection letters that say, "Are you effing kidding me? We wouldn't hire you to work in our mail room." Yeah, didn't think so.
Yesterday, I got a P.O. Box and a new phone line for business purposes. I'll be on the warning order attorney list in three surrounding counties, and on both the warning order attorney list and the guardian ad litem list in The City. (I figured $500 isn't worth possibly traveling out to BFE in the hollow (pronounced "holler") in a surrounding county for a home visit as a GAL.) The end of July, I'm going to pop over to those three surrounding counties and here in The City and get signed up for court appointments. I figure if I don't hear anything by the end of July on the jobs I've already applied for and the mass-mailing of my resume to everyone in this part of the state, I'm probably not going to hear anything at all. So I can either sit around and pout about it while collecting unemployment, or I can start my own law firm and do what some of my classmates have been doing since October, which is discounted legal work/court appointments.
And now I have to go to bed early, because I signed up for a stupid 7:30 a.m. breakfast with the Young Lawyers division, and it's storming, so the chicken shit dog will have to sleep with us or else she'll pace and whimper all night long, and she hogs the bed. Fail.