Michael Bolton concerts and Root Canals

I have been job hunting, which is very similar to Michael Bolton concerts and root canals: stressful, uncomfortable, and at times, agonizing, but something we just have to deal with every once in a while. I am a teacher, so the interviews aren't all that terrible. Something like this: "If a child says that your assignment is stupid, how do you react?" "You have run out of glue. What is your first step to recovering order in the classroom?" "In order to drive the point of a certain lesson home, you must perform a spontaneous DNA gel electrophoresis. Take me through your procedures." Something like that.

In the meantime, I have to look "professional" at all of these interviews. This wouldn't be such a problem, except that I am casual by nature, and if it were up to me, I would wear gym shorts and a t-shirt from the Salvation Army. So, I spend a few hours making myself appear as if I have not just finished playing disc golf, and the results are often pretty....scary. To make it even better, I was on my way out to my car on my way to one interview, and the arid Texas skies suddenly decided to open. So I arrived at the school looking like I had spent several hours making myself appear as if I had not just finished playing disc golf...and then had decided to swim to the interview.

I am currently spread between two cities in Texas. The vast majority of my earthly posessions are quite far away from me, and I am essentially homeless. I am fortunate enough to have friends who are willing to lend me their apartments and homes while they are out of town. So, I am currently staying in a quite frankly frightening apartment in one of the more heavily populated college areas. Last night, I was trying to doze off after encountering a roach the size of a small dog when I heard the most terrifying noises coming from the other room. Ever the levelheaded individual, I deftly leapt out of bed, grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1, and a coat rack in the room. I think I was planning to hit whatever was making the noises with the coat rack, which in retrospect was a little stupid as I had to drag it behind me because it was so heavy. I think I was counting on an adrenaline rush. Anyway, I crept out of the bedroom (it is only a one bedroom place, so I was totally exposed to any imminent dangers at this point), and set myself to pounce, tensing every muscle in my body. The noises shifted to the bathroom, which was right next to me...I jumped, and swung the coat rack a whole six inches in front of me. I am a force to fear, I'm telling you. Anyway, it was then that it occured to me that this was probably my upstairs neighbors just tap dancing in the bathroom area (???). Then I heard the squeaking. It was a raw animal squeaking that convinced me that there were rabid bunnies in the walls. To make a long story short (too late), I never figured out what the noises were, I didn't sleep very well, and I never got to use my coat rack. I have decided that I have some kind of small (non-rabid) animal guests in the ceiling (maybe a cat, a large bird, or maybe some squirrels if I'm lucky). At least that makes me feel better. This is exactly why I don't like living alone. The interviews are still scarier, though.