Grillée par la fraîcheur*

I was going to post something about Saint Patrick's day, knowing full well that I'd not be the only one. Although I don't know any other blog sporting the colour theme 24/7. AH! got you there, didn't I.

However, lots of people have already posted. So I'll just plod on, finding something else to talk about.
Actually I do have something else to talk about. Might not be interesting though, be warned.

I'll be twiddling my thumbs in about 8 weeks now. I'm looking for a job as I type, but nothing's for certain. Also, because I'm a fussy, choosy, picky cow, I want THE job, and I NEED the timeframe. Ideally, I'll be leaving work mid-May (just in time to enjoy the warmer weather, yay), and ideally I'll have found THE job starting around September. That's 3.5 months doing sod all, which sounds like just what the doctor's ordered. Come to think of it, that's too long, it's aeons since I've been a student, and I don't think I can handle that long a period of inactivity, so I'll be happy starting in August. Or July. Or even June. Just May's out of the question.

So that's when you come in, dear readers... I need ideas for a holiday. Ideally still, I'd go back to Oz or Scotland, but it would never be long enough**. So I'll have to settle for something else. As I won't be too comfortable budget-wise, I'm thinking of a week somewhere, the catch being that I really need to be doing fuck-all, so that means no visits of temples, no hikes at sunrise just to see the sun rise over the tops of the hills, no intensive sports to get rid of all that tension. Fuck-all. The sun. And the beach. And the pool in case I can't be bothered going to the beach.

Then the people I'm hoping for will call me and say "Thank god you applied with us, we've been looking for someone just like you and couldn't find anybody". I'll refrain from asking whether it was neuroses they were looking for, thank them humbly and politely, hang up in a trance. Start with them a couple weeks later, on an unbelievable pay, for an incredible job, where all my talents will be recognised and widely admired, get quickly promoted. By the time I'm 45, I'll rule the world. My husband will be George Clooney (who never could resist a woman with a personality), and I dare say I will be a happy bunny.

Haven't I got it all sorted?

* Reference to a French commercial. Can't translate. Sorry.
** Yes, I have tried to find a job there, and have failed miserably because I have been very consistently unlucky in love, game, and work. I also have a working visa for Australia, would you believe, with a company that so screwed me over that I'm now in writing therapy all over the interweb. Anything else? Oh yeah, and if you happen to know an Aussie pining for European citizenship, send them to me - although why he would be is beyond me.