After a leisurely early morning of coffee and several Settlers games with The Husbeast, I set to work tidying up my office in anticipation of a new semester’s worth of work. While I love having a neat and organized space, I am a cluttered person by nature and have to remain constantly vigilant against mess lest stacks of books and craft supplies take up permanent residence on every available surface. Today, while concentrating on rehoming the vagrant toy triceratops that’s been roosting on top of one of my bookshelves, I glanced up to admire the antique Romanian rug that serves as a beloved wall hanging. And the thought hit me: the funny lettering below the date (1929) isn’t some indecipherable alphabet. It’s Arabic. This would be a totally acceptable lightbulb moment for someone who isn’t trained in Classical Arabic, but that someone would most definitely not be me. The script spells Su’ad, a common female name. And, while my density is astounding, I remain pleased at my new discovery.

In other surprising news, I received a phone call from a local coffee shop owner, requesting a job interview. This was in response to a “resume” I sent in a few weeks ago, which went something like this: I’m from Seattle, and I value a good cup of coffee. Let me know if you’re interested. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. I don’t have high expectations, since apparently pink hair can be a bit intimidating, as I’ve recently discovered. Or maybe it’s my awesome glasses.

Finally, this afternoon, while on a mission to obtain two of life’s most essential commodities (coffee and cat litter), I stopped by a well-liked local antique shop in hopes of scoring an old camera. No such luck, but in the midst of debating whether or not I should pick up a set of postcards, got yet another surprise phone call. It was the VA office from My Big State School, informing me that my name hadn’t made it to the “hold list” (a list for veterans using their GI Bill benefits, allowing us to stay enrolled in courses despite the school not having received money from the VA) and that I would have to immediately apply for emergency tuition assistance or face being dropped from all classes, which more or less means being kicked out of university and having to apply all over again. Awesome. But never fear. My threatening hair and overbearing glasses were enough to fix the problem telephonically* and my name has magically appeared on the list.

All in an honest day’s work, my friends. All in an honest day’s work.

* It could also have been the part where I growled something along the lines of “Your mistakes are not my fucking problem and you best fix them before you’re out a fucking job” – I’m not really mean, I swear, but I didn’t wear a uniform for six years so some milquetoast admin jerk could screw me over on tuition.

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