there is literally a job downstairs

employment has apparently been hiding thirty seconds from my bedroom. #

This is ridiculous. Remember when I wrote that I wanted a job? There is a place practically under my house looking for somebody. A tanning salon. Lamps, tanning beds, creams, appointments, people coming in during January because apparently their natural winter colour is a personal insult. I had noticed the place obviously, because I am not blind and I live here, but I’d never really thought about what happens inside one all day. Then I saw they were looking for someone and stood outside for an embarrassingly long time pretending to inspect something else before finally thinking, Alice, either go inside or stop being ridiculous.

So I went inside. Asked. Talked. Tried to look like a competent adult instead of a girl who had spent ten minutes rehearsing `”Hello”` outside. And actually I really liked the atmosphere. Everything has to be clean, everything has its little routine, there are appointments and products and explanations and people coming in wanting different things. I could already tell there are going to be characters. One woman came out while I was there and immediately inspected her arms under the light with the concentration of somebody checking a scientific experiment.

The funniest thing is the distance. There isn’t one. I could leave home and practically arrive before I’ve finished putting my coat on. I told Mom and she said, “That would be convenient.” Then she looked at me for a second and added, “Dangerously convenient.” I asked what that was supposed to mean and she said, `”You’ll spend your salary before you’ve walked one street.”`

Rude. Also almost certainly correct.

Remember me, Eclipse.