I woke up this morning to find a fax from my client in Tokyo. They had a job for me (maybe) and wanted to see if I was available.
Pure patent heaven: 17,000 words on a packet-switching system. Plenty of money and something much more fun than leases for storage closets. The deadline was pretty far out, so I'd be able to juggle my medical appointments, Hamster work, and the job without breaking a sweat. And with the money I'd be able to get through the next semester without further depleting my savings.
Or so I chanted to myself all day as I paid bills, ran errands, went to the doctor and got to see my MRI again.
And then, having thoroughly jinxed myself by wanting it too much, I checked my email at the start of business (Tokyo time) to find that the job had been cancelled.
Maybe a better job will come in, but I wanted this one. What self-indulgent angst, I think as I watch on TV the disaster unfolding on the edges of the Indian Ocean. Things could be oh so much worse, and are, but not for me.
193 words | December 27, 2004 10:25 PM | Real true story