We interviewed a guy for the position of new roommate tonight (and no, I did not ask him about his menstrual cycle). He seemed very nice. And he has a subscription to Netflix, is a computer whiz who could probably fix my moribund IMac, has contacts in the film industry, and knows how to spackle. I hope he moves in. As roommate #2 said after the interview, "I think we've found ourselves the perfect houseboy."

Of course he could still turn out to be a crack-addicted serial killer who never takes out the trash. But I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

One of my three roommates is moving out at the beginning of October. This is probably a good thing because she and the other roommate don't get along and I have been trying to be Switzerland for so long that I'm ready to explode from all the neutrality..However. It is a bad thing because I like her a lot and she is a near-perfect roommate-quiet, considerate, and clean without being obsessive.

Now we are trying to find a new third roommate for October and it is a very arduous process involving many interviews and much ad-placing.How do you really figure out what a person's level of livability is through one meeting?I remember when I was looking for a place a few years ago being subjected to a 100-question questionnaire by one set of potential housemates. Among the questions were, "If you were candy, what kind of candy would you be?(Pixie Sticks)and "How much does your menstrual cycle affect your level of emotional stability?(nobody's business but my own).That felt a little intrusive, I must say.But I like the idea of a few revealing questions.

I got a new job! Chalk one up for the self-help books!

I hung out for a while in a bookstore today hoping that someone would ask if they could help me so that I could say, "No, actually it's SELF help that I'm looking for" but unfortunately nobody did.Ah well. It was a nice idea.

Anyway, in my new job I will be teaching drama to fourth and fifth graders as part of an afterschool program. There are many worse things one could do with one's time. Like, for example, serving expensive lattes to the obscenely wealthy and indolent. Unfortunately I will still have to work part-time at the Coffee Shop of Despair until I find something else to occupy my mornings, but part-time will definitely be an improvement.

Yay.

Last night I went bowling for the first time ever and, amazingly enough, I was very good at it. I think I have finally discovered my true vocation. Unfortunately bowling, like all of my other vocations, does not seem to hold much potential for financial gain. Perhaps I can find a corporate sponsor for future bowling activities.

I also met a cute boy. This does not necessarily mean that Adrien will ever face any serious competition for my heart, but it is nice to know that there are such things as cute boys out there. There is a tiny flickering light at the end of the breakup blue tunnel.

Someone stole my shoes out of the locker room at the gym while I was working out. What kind of cretinous miscreant makes off with someone else's footwear?It's not as if they were particularly nice shoes or anything-they were cheap little black canvas jobbies that I purchased at Wal-Mart four years ago and had worn the heck out of. They had ripped laces and the left shoe had a hole in the toe.

But I loved them.They were carefree and casual and comfy and they went with everything.

Go in peace, shoes. I only hope that wherever they are, they are in good hands. Or on good feet.

I usually try to restrain my quotomaniac tendencies, but I feel like sharing this one tonight. I found it in one of my less-moronic self-help books- (I think they're helping! Really! I no longer drool in public and I wore matching socks every day this week !Of course, they were the same pair...but it still counts)

Anyway- here it is:

"The greatest danger, that of losing one's own self, can pass off as quietly as if it were nothing.
Every other loss- that of an arm, a leg, a wife, five dollars- is sure to be noticed"

Soren Kierkegaard(I don't know how to reproduce the little slash mark he decorated his 'o'with, but I don't really approve of that anyway.)