The first thing I needed to do this morning when I got to work was make copies of papers. Not a tough job, even for me. However, a mysterious sticky brown substance was all over the copier when I went to use it. People wonder why secretaries are absolute nazis sometimes...things like this are why. I don't mind cleaning at all, but being given a project with a deadline (and being told about it as you're leaving the night before, no less) of early the next morning and arriving to a mess gets me pulling out the depressing job search page again. What blows my mind isn't that someone somehow spilled whatever on the copier -- most likely someone was just sloppy with his or her soday -- but that they didn't even bother to wipe it up. Amazing.

Now playing: The International Submarine Band. Not nearly as lush or harmonic as Sweetheart of the Rodeo and one doesn't get the impression that the singer is flirting with destruction in the same way as rings through on Parsons' solo albums, but sweet listening nonetheless.

In other news, supposedly one of the inspectors is going through the new place this morning and the final inspector is pretty quick and easy once that's over. We might actually be moving by the end of the week, which is a pretty exciting prospect. I'm woefully out of shape and this could be a real challenge but the truth is that perhaps the road to recovery sometimes begins from undesired necessity. I've now been living out of a duffel bag for nearly a month and for a year and a half before that, I've been letting other people use my dresser while I lived in the basement and kept clothes in boxes both plastic and cardboard or hung them from pipes overhead. I mind that sort of thing a whole lot less than one might think and certainly less than most Americans but all the same I'll enjoy the ability to actually keep my clothes and other things in some sort of order.