The sunrise was awe-inspiring today despite last night's descent into self-pity.
An event which happens all the less frequently these years, and lasted barely an hour this time.
If that ain't magic... Maybe it's the flood of e-mail saying powerful things or the sound of certain voices reminding me of, of wonder, really, and singing lullabies over a telephone line buried in the ocean so that I can sleep.
And dream of kind voices.
And if the word beautiful appears one more time in e-mail, I think I might just start bawling again, but in a good way.
Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, for the cat that spent an hour purring on my chest this morning, and yelped comically in an orange cat sort of way as I reached for the phone to hear about a prospect that one of my "counsellors" may have found for me.
In Limoges.
Limoges, unlike the sodden cigarette-butted streets of Paris, is the sort of place where you can still lean out your window in the morning to breathe in the fresh air and wake up properly.
And better than that, she said the magic word. Linux.
So now I'm using google like the sexy bitch it is and devouring every morsel I can of all of the three technical words she managed to retain, waiting for the good doctor's phone call and imminent awkward phone interview.
And they're already warning me about the problem with ages, how their previous consultant never finished his project because he was too young and couldn't get anyone to listen.
This sounds achingly familiar, the same conditions I walked into as my last contract, I wonder why it seems to happen so often in the molasses-drowned industry here.
But I've got six months of fighting deaf ears under my belt, and a fresh start and a project that sounds far more interesting.
I think.
Still waiting for the phone to ring, cat in my lap, vi at the ready, mozart's magic flute singing into the morning light, and some of that special Jasmine-and-Ginseng tea that I mixed from leaves that I'm about to run out of.
This morning I am alive again, breathing in the smells of kitty litter.
Tomorrow I might even think to ask "why can't the stupid cat take a shit when I'm NOT in the bathroom..."
:D
Purr, he says. Yeah well, that pretty much sums it up here too.
Thank you. Thank you for breaking through that wall of alone no matter how far I'd pulled myself in.
That, is magic. Now if only we could bottle it and set up a distributor in all the darkest, loneliest bits of all the biggest towns.
Updates from the phone interview, I'm thinking Roxanne might try to charge them for it.
It's almost like a game, sometimes, when the interviewer asks a loaded question and you can hear his pen flying across his page (or my keyboard tapping away) while he desperately tries to note down the thirteen different ways I suggested he solve his problem.
In the medical industry. Using sendmail.
Ahhhhh...
Time to go learn something about LDAP.
Did you know that cat hair can even stick to satin pyjamas?
Ya learn somethin' new every morning.
Several somethin's, even.