Stuff on parade [long post]

Ok, so, in order to make my job search easier (less painful), I've decided to do an "application resume," ie, take my regular resume and insert all the crappity-crap that these online applications require so that I could just copy & paste instead of having to research the stuff from scratch each time.

Good thing I'm OCD, because I actually HAVE all data going back to my first job, in classification folders. Heck, I have tax records going back twenty years, neatly filed. I'm that sort of girl.

Yesterday, DH Jeff calls out to me, "um, Scooter, come here a second." He'd found my classification folder with all the WaPo "Second Glance" puzzles I've ever done. You know, the ones where there are two pictures and you have to identify the twelve differences between them? "Why are you keeping a file of these?" Well, I had no plausible answer to give him that didn't include impending alien invasions and coded messages imbedded in the images. He gave up that query after I said something like, "because."

One application requests the reason for leaving each position. While I'm tempted to put, in the one case,* "I quit before the unethical, snake-in-the-grass asshat could procure an excuse to fire me, after side-lining me under one of his quintessentially mediocre lapdog administrative hires and making my work life completely miserable," I have the time to craft a more palatable and succinct reason: "was planning to leave the area with fiance," which was also true at the time.

More on that boss: I once ran into him outside of work with his two small children and he made this grand gesture, like, "see the children! aren't they wonderful? don't you love them (you're a woman, after all)? aren't I wonderful - I'm playing Daddy?" Uggh. It might come as a great shock to you, dumbass, but I don't melt around children, especially if I know they're growing up under your influence. And the thought that the sight of them (around you) would make me more positively inclined towards you doesn't work because I know your wife is raising them, while you play executive. Ahh, vitriole of the past.

So, yesterday Jeff & I were moving furniture and stuff in advance of some ADA-required modifications to our apartment which started this morning. I'm a pretty good housekeeper, but one thing I've always neglected is this set of metal trays under the stovetop grill thingies, which catch the splatter & cooking detritus. Once the stuff gets on the trays, it's loathe to come off with anything weaker than concentrated acid. As a result, they had become pretty disgusting. I've soaked them in hot soapy water & scrubbed them with various abrasive cleansers, to no avail. Yet last night I was on a mission to overcome this particular obstacle to stovetop cleanliness bliss. Guess what worked? Scraping off the gunk with a small screwdriver. Desperate situations...

After this feat was accomplished, I started getting kind of manic, because I started seeing other things in dire need of cleaning, lest the workmen get the impression that we're (I'm) slovenly. After I finished cleaning to an acceptable level, I told myself sternly, "get a hold of yourself - they won't even be looking at the top of the fridge and probably don't care either way." Then, I congratulated myself on this useful exercise & how much I learned about myself in the process." Yeh.

Alright. I believe the workmen have finished for the day, so it's time to reclaim our apartment.

Next effort: solving the mystery of the "self-cleaning oven."

*This was a LONG time ago, so back off!