26 March 1995

by jkatejohnston

Dear Max,

Teresa has gone with her kitties to the vet where they will make a day of it. I gave them flees. The dogs had them in Oakland, and apparently the flees saw me packing and stowed away, hoping for greener pastures.

Meanwhile I’m sitting here with the classified ads and a folder that says Job Watch ’95. I’m going to apply for a job as an Aviation Refueler. Last night at dinner my mom said, “Do airplanes have gas caps?” and everyone laughed.[1] And then there’s the ad for ballroom dance instructor, no experience necessary, they train bright self-starting people-person. 

Am I a people-person, Max? I only like about five people, but I’m very friendly. Teresa says just wear tight clothes. I keep looking for the ad that says, “Writer.  $500 per hour plus tips.  Nothing illegal.”

 

 


[1] I didn’t have the best reputation for keeping gas caps and cars together. This was in the days before they had the bright idea of attaching the gas cap to the car. 

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