It's getting on toward the end of July, now, and the frantic Muppet-arm-flailing madness of the last few months has begun to dampen down a bit. The dust finally settled on my job at Capital Prime, and I'm a pantry cook now, which is nice because I don't go home with water in my shoes any more. Having settled in, I've looked around and realized it's not a terrible place to work; I'm thinking about moving up from pantry to line, if the opportunity comes, so I'll have Cooking to add to my list of skills. All in all it's a good place to work, and I can hang in there and make money. For now. Of course the frustration of not attaining some much-vaunted art job threw off its own gravitational waves in the Rick-mindverse, like the roars of a Cepheid Variable before it dims to a cinder. The thing will undoubtedly flare up again, but for now it lies cool and sullen, slowly rebuilding its collapsed nuclear infrastructure. And because that energy just doesn'
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