  june 19, 2000.Just went through the granny routine again. "Hello, can I speak to Scherezade please?" I've been friends with the girl for 5 years now, and every time I talk to her grandmother, it's exactly the same. Who? I can't get upset thought. She's old & English isn't her first language and besides, I'm afraid of her wrath. I don't know why - she's never been mad at me - but irrational fear makes the world go round or so they say.
I'm in a very strange mood today. Pretty much all the anger has dissipated, leaving only a quiet sadness. I miss my cubicle and more importantly I miss feeling on top of the world, in control and all associated jazz. My unemployed world always shrinks a bit. When I'm no longer fighting eternity for one blessed minute to get things done, I inevitably let everything slide. All my thank you cards are done, but I owe that more to my mother's concern than to any real gumption on my part. I'm even too lazy to vanity surf; I just look up Stacy's old entries with me in them. But mostly I just sit around, reading The Fionavar Tapestry & eating potato chips. That's the other thing: I also eat too much junk when I'm home against my will. Nothing a short stint in the Marines wouldn't cure, I'll bet.
Q just figured out yesterday that any mail sent to my contact network address goes to him as the parent account. He forwarded two pieces of mail meant for me, one of which was a simple bit of address data from my dad, the other of which was an extremely lovely note from Cranly. I'm very relieved to have it - I was afraid that this entry had upset him, so I was getting preemptively cranky. To have my fears alleviated with such a pretty piece of writing is a pearl of great price and I'm grateful indeed. I wonder if Q read it. I know that if I'd received his mail in error, I would most likely read it (although I'd feel terribly guilty about my prying, that probably wouldn't slow me down much.)
Two more months today.
The house is very quiet now that Nic has gone away.
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