I think you could wear it, ita, though it's probably not your absolute best color.

Hey Shir!

Thanks, Susan. I'll give it some more thought. I also poked around their late 60s suit section just in case and put in a small bid on one, but that's for business.

Yeah, that's my job-shopping for today. Buying old suits.

Wait...I just thought of one more recruiter-seeking email I can send out. I'm not completely blowing today. How do people job hunt when they're already working 40 hours? And the headaches don't help.

Okay, letter just about sent. How do you end the punctuation on:

Your connections really all that, she asks tauntingly

It feels empty without a question mark, but it's fondling the wrong word.

Contour sheet folding is pretty fun, actually--stick your hand in one corner, match it up with the opposite corner, and then shake it out so everything lines up. Then do the same on the other two corners and fold the two doubled-up corners together.

This part I'm good with. But then there's the step that seems to go "then you flip and flip, and voila there's a nice little square with tidy corners." And I flip and flip, and voila there's a lumpy rectangle with corners hanging out.

So things have worked out oddly. I'm no longer my boss' secretary. I'm the VP's secretary. She had less on her plate than I have, so can deal with his demands better.

Allyson, I just popped in to see how things went today. I hope this is a better solution and that working for someone you don't have such a long history with will be easier on both of you -- it sounds like maybe that was the core issue. (Which is not to excuse your boss at all, because he was definitely being an asshat, but I kinda think that's why he was being an asshat.)

There's a cool PBS documentary about class -- there's a ton of stuff online here [link] A lot of it is about defining classes by values and status symbols more than pure economics, because your class is a tribe. Being considered upper-class in the US isn't just about having money; a poor family who wins the lottery isn't going to magically fit in with the people who summer in the Hamptons.

a poor family who wins the lottery isn't going to magically fit in with the people who summer in the Hamptons.

Nope, but they are going to fit in with other I guess brand new money. (Think Toby Keith's album title "White Trash with money".) It fits what you say, but ol Toby is not hanging around with a bunch of roughnecks, or people who play for tips in bars.

Economic class trumps social class a lot more than the other way around. Take a hypothetical. You may be "old money" but lose that money and the ability to pay dues, and you are out of that country club your family has been a member of for 20 generations. And if that old money country club won't let Bill Gates in, well he can buy his own damn country club. And your "old money" background won't get you into that one either.

But your example is also economic. Is the old money family who loses it all going to take up bowling and monster truck shows because they can't afford polo and opera? Their taste/values won't change as a result of an empty bank account, even if they can't indulge those tastes anymore.

Toby Keith is rich. But he is not what people are thinking about when they refer to the upper class. If anything, a title like "White Trash with Money" is basically a message to his fans saying, "I'm rich, but I'm still just like you ."

Oh, it's still fun to wave a new Natter, even if I knew it must be there by the time I came back for the morning (whitefont for ick you can only appreciate the benefits of, say, showering, changing your clothes, and, oh, brushing your teeth, once you spend two days straight in front of your computer with only a 2 hours nap you caught on two chairs put together - yes, the computers are still poisoned, I have to try to do whatever I can manually, and I'm so behind I'll meet my own back any minute now from the wrong end).

With his needs off my plate, I can concentrate more fully on the projects I have. He feels awful about the constant clashing, loves me, and said I'm valuable to the company and doesn't want to see me go.

I admit I skimmed the new Natter looking for an update, Allyson.

It's good to read that, at least for the time being - and for the symposium you put so much into, and maybe even through the difficult-to-find-a-new-job period - things seemed to relax a bit.

Now you can look for whatever you want and is best for you with somewhat less pressure, on your own terms, so whichever way you decide to go, I hope it'll at least be in a more peaceful and less stressful way through.

OK, back to work.

Note to self: No more Benadryl.

Besided the afternooon nap, I went to bed at 6:30 pm and woke up at Midnight. I'm folding laundry and catching up on Doctor Who at 2:30 am.

Today is going to suck with the gronk.

Oh, Cashmere, I'm sorry your sleep schedule went crazy.

I hope tomorrow [Edit: no, wait, it's already "today" for you, as well, huh? The timezones sometimes actually match, don't they?] will behave itself and be as minimally gronkified as possible.

Thanks, Nilly! The bonus is that I get to talk to you.

Oh, I'm afraid I'm a big ball of whines and computer-destroying and deadline-stomach-aching these days. So not so much with the pleasant conversationalist and the nice middle-of-the-night company. Sorry.

Hmm. How about an Owen and/or Olivia story to cheer me up? Yes, I'm selfish and needy.