this woman's work

By next week, I will have done the following:

• Made something out of the maple sugar I bought at Rainbow. Time to set aside Indecision 2005.
  
• Applied for a new job. I am cringing as I type those words- holding my breath, but mostly just feeling weary about that ever-annoying process of convincing people that you're qualified and capable of doing something that most people with basic comprehension and communication skills can do. Of course employers have to have something to gauge the likelihood that you will be successful in a position, but it is always striking to me, when you get right down to it, how little that has to do with ability. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know... suck it up, such is the way of the world. The worst part in this case is that I'm overqualified, which means that I have to convince an employer that a) I'm qualified even though that's obvious and b) there's a good reason I want to take a step backwards. Where are the spin artists when you need them?
  
• Cut my hair. Okay, that's false advertising. I have actually always had a secret fantasy that involves cutting my own hair. I know all too well that such fantasies usually quickly morph into nightmares, however. So, it will be a trip to the salon instead. It is unfortunately typical of me to put off this type of grooming until a critical point has been reached and left far behind. I am already past the point of needing a haircut and in the realm of oh my god, have you given up on life?
  
• Had a fine glass of cachaca. Rum sucks. Cachaca is the nectar of the gods. Nothing makes me angrier than bartenders who make mojitos or caipirinhas with rum. That is just wrong.
  
• Finished reading Stiff. It's fantastic.
  
• Started re-reading War by Candlelight. I read this book prior to going to Peru, and found it quite moving. But I want to re-experience it now with the new visuals of Lima and Arequipa vivid in my head. You bastards in DC could go see Daniel Alarcon, by the way, on July 28th. I'm not jealous. Really.
  
• Sent a care package to my cousin S, one of the teeniacs who visited me a few months ago. I love her, because she uses terms like ridonkulous, Luda!, and son. Teeniacs are great, because they will tell you (without judgment, I might add) that some song you won't publicly admit you like or have ever heard is by Baby Bash & Akon. Now, this same teeniac is enrolled in nerd camp. Rest assured, that moniker is purely in affectionate jest. I am proud of the little spazz.

Start placing your bets on whether I'll actually get any of this done.