No car...yet. A kindly car salesman gave me a patronizing lecture regarding credit today. I felt as if I were 15. Money has never been my strong suite, I'm too busy living in my head.
I don't think that my roommate wants to talk to me anymore. That makes me sad, but the move is for the best. I cant stand awkward tension.
I have a new job. Working for my attorney's office. I never in a million years thought I would opt for a position working for a personal injury law office over a nonprofit job albeit for less pay. I guess that's the power of the almighty dollar. I actually feel really good about the whole thing. The people working there, the fact that they seem to love me (my interviewee called me a sharp girl and noted that he can spot natural intelligence when he sees it....I giggled 'oh go on'....in my head.....flattery gets me every time, for at least 60 seconds at which time I return to the no nonsense Sarah that you all know and love), even the commute feels good. I look forward to lazy mornings on the freeway flying against the traffic fighting to get into SLC. And the pay will help facilitate a little more freedom with my creative pursuits ie: photography, and seeing movies filled with whimsy whenever I please.
Speaking of seeing whimsical movies, I saw one tonight. Miss Potter (I'm thinking that the rest of the Jones girls will like this one...if not just for the fact that Mr. Ewan McGregor is in it and even sings for a second or two). I loved losing myself in Beatrix Potter's make believe world and forgetting my troubles for a bit. It definitely served its purpose as I left the theatre feeling all kinds of refreshed and abounding with optimism....and a firm resolution to clean my room, which is a rarity. I loved Emily Watson's proclamation to Miss Potter when she begrudges leaving her devoutly single friend for love in that "If I found a man who loved me and I loved back, I would trample my own Mother for that happiness". That's close enough. And I echo that sentiment. Indeed, I would not trample my mother (never fear Mom) but most definitely someone else's.
I did the unthinkable this past weekend. After my job interview just past the point of the mountain I figured I might as well attend my mission reunion in Provo that evening. Especially since my dear Julie would be at a little get together afterwards. As I had a couple hours to kill in the interim, I ran a couple errands, and got a lovely Diesel shirt for $5 at Downeast and decided to wear it that evening. I need to preface this by adding that I have changed in my car many a time and never been caught, or at least to my knowledge. I promise that I am always very discreet. Well, I had one shirt half on with the other half off with my seat in full recline. As I maneuvered to get the final arm in the final sleeve, a sat up a little and was aghast at what I saw. There I sat with my assets partially exposed or rather my underwear partially exposed, and was being stared down by two very startled missionaries in route the car parked next to mine. I promptly laid back down and closed my eyes as if I was taking a nap in my car (it seemed like a good idea at the time). I silently prayed that the poor elders would disappear although I doubted that any such prayer would be answered in a timely manner seeing as how I just flashed the missionaries in preparation for my mission reunion. Furthermore, while making my appearance at said mission reunion where no one seemed to know me because 1) I didn't really know the English speaking missionaries and 2) I must be older than dirt in LDS speak....I quickly greeted the mission president. I was content to wait until he had finished speaking to the incredibly young looking couple and extra man (because thats what us single people are), but he promptly yelled out Sister Hon-ez! and grabbed my arm. He then reported to the small group of strangers that when he took me to the airport I just couldn't stop contacting people. I felt inclined to tell him that I didn't actually recall that (because missionaries and even return ones should be honest). I got strange looks from the strange-ers. Afterwards a bunch of us met at the International House of Pancakes (which always makes me wonder if they have locations in Europe, or maybe Asia). An elder I had served with sat near me with his wife and baby and asked if there were any more single people to fill the seat across from me so as to promote more conversation. I noted that we singles live to fill in those awkward empty seats. And felt a little sting as I guess my conversation wasn't quite adequate.
Back to car shopping.