Every day for the nearly two weeks before the bar, the sun shone brilliantly and the breeze blew and the air was warm, like spring but in February. The crocuses came out. The daffodils came out. The leaves seemed about to leap onto the trees. And we bar-studiers were stuck inside, pouring over tomes the size of pulpit Bibles, occasionally catching a glimpse of the sunshine that everyone else was enjoying.
Today, the first day I have been coherent enough to want to do something other than fall over on my couch, it started pouring rain. Typical.
It might not be a coincidence that, in the course of filling out a job application, I found myself back on the website of the organization I worked for in Sudan (looking for a phone number, I promise) and thought I would just take a look at the job openings. Just a little look.
That might have been a mistake.
Craving.
Today, the first day I have been coherent enough to want to do something other than fall over on my couch, it started pouring rain. Typical.
It might not be a coincidence that, in the course of filling out a job application, I found myself back on the website of the organization I worked for in Sudan (looking for a phone number, I promise) and thought I would just take a look at the job openings. Just a little look.
That might have been a mistake.
Craving.
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