I'm sad to be home.
Sitting in front of the terminal and while on the flight home, all I could think of was how I didn't want to be going home. Not because of specific people (my parents, for example). This whole not having a job come September, coupled with the fact that I had to go to work today and see the dentist. All those people who take months off to run around Europe. I found solace in SoCal, amid the 2nd degree burn and continuous headache and tight, painful shoulders and neck. Going back to San Jose made going to Chicago seem good. And you remember how much fun I had dying in Chicago.
I didn't get the job I applied for. I should have done a better job with thank-you letters and applications and resumes.
And I'm still not going to be paid for a few more weeks because Human Resources sucks. Actually, even the money they gave me was a mistake, and they wanted me to pay it back. I gave them the courteous version of "drop dead" and said if they wanted me to pay it back, I would pay them after I had gotten my paycheck in a few weeks. Fuckers. In the end, we reached a harmonious agreement, which troubles me.