She gets a real job, we get to save again, and in several months time put in a down payment for a house somewhere else in the country. I have a work release where I can do my job remotely, and that's not gonna change any time soon.

I'm still holding out hope that after dozens of job applications, over a dozen interviews, and 4 close calls, I, too, will get a new job somewhere. And still get to sue the ever loving shit out of this cesspool of backward monkey-fucking expatriates of Dumbfuckistan.

Buddha and Christ in bed, I fucking hate Iowa. S hates fucking Iowa. I've been here 4 years longer than I ever intended to. I guess that's what happens when your ex-wife slaloms off to live with her boyfriend and leaves you with the kid because she can't handle it. Well now the kid is hers because of the pandemic and S having an immunodeficiency and love-hating the little dude.

Me? I'm sad he's gone, but it made trying to knock her up impossible. Without a surrogate it's still impossible, but at least now there's a chance. And like I've said before here, dear reader, only thing I've wanted out of life was a daughter. S didn't like the idea of us having a 3rd in the relationship just for breeding in exchange for financial security at first, but now says let's wait and see.

All the most incentive for me to finish reviewing these grants, getting out abstracts for the conference, and applying for more jobs. And occasionally USC about whether I made the final cut or not. The talk went great. The meeting with the search committee went great. Collaborating with the search committee chair went great. And him asking about how they could employ my wife to ensure a "happy move" and a "happy home" sure as hell seemed like a good sign.

Then radio silence. Even to update them on shit you can normally update these people on. Fucking HR and their regulations about contact with candidates. Maybe they're putting together an offer for me. Maybe they're courting some other fuck and I'm #2 they haven't flushed down the toilet yet, in case #1 pulls out or negotiations break down.

For being in the top 0.77% of 270,000 researchers in neurodegenerative diseases, and getting interviews somewhat regularly, I gotta wonder why the fuck the Fates still have me here. Klothos is great, don't get me wrong, but I'm done living around donkey-fucks who let their dogs out at all hours to wake my dog and us up, who never wear masks, and just seem to show up into their cars and make my walk to socially distance them a game of 3D tetris.

"Do you have thoughts of homicide?" my therapist last week asks.

I am obliged to say no. Otherwise I get reported. But deep down, if I woke up and some barbarous chthonic asshole had devoured or skull fucked all these college kids and morbidly obese dumbfucks around me, I would start worshipping the elder gods. Holy fucking shit there are some dumb motherfuckers around here.

There. My beer is finished. Time to try to go back to sleep after some random asshole knocking on the door woke me up an hour ago.

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