"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping

Entry 1

San Francisco, April 2017.
 The weather the last few days has been amazing. It's nearly 6 p.m., spring starting later tonight, and the front door is wide open. There isn't a cloud in the sky, a breeze with a slight chill is blowing. Abby is downstairs, the dog isn't barking. A rather good day, I would admit. 

The Cure just won't get out of my head. I really wish I could find the courage to let it all go. Moving will help, I think. Keep your fingers crossed, the odds I will move to Portland are looking better than even. The recruiter, ever optimistic, thinks I may be flown down as early as Friday. I hope not, given Abby is here, but she will understand. 

Meanwhile, I learned yesterday that my lazy  boss is, well, lazy. He told me last week that he asked if my temporary status

Seward Street Slides, 2017.
could be extended so I wouldn't have a break in service and thus not go unpaid, and was told he could. Yesterday, he told me he was wrong. I pressed him, and under pressure admitted he was told he needed to speak with someone else, a David I think. His failure to act will mean I won't be paid after April 2, and will be off payroll until hired. What a dick. I hope I get the Portland job.

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