it's strange

I've moved back into my grandmother's house, the one where I spent a solid eight years of my life, without counting the countless weekends and weeknights we spent here with her while our parents worked the less-desired shifts.

I never felt in danger here. Or alone. Even though my grandmother kept to herself and let us follow our own agendas. Even though her size and age made her a visible target for crime.

But now, all big and grown-up, being here without her makes me feel small and defenseless. I check the closets and behind the doors, to make sure no one is waiting to ambush me. Never mind that no one has broken into this house since the 1960s, when my grandfather, stark naked, chased them out and down the alley, much to my grandma's amusement.

Sold! (1961)

I don't know if it's a product of adulthood or the empty feeling of the house. But I miss how it felt like home.

the big HR department in the sky

I've been applying for jobs in the D.C. area since June 2nd, the day I got home.

My friend Adam was an HR recruiter, and after reviewing my resume and cover letter, sent me a new template just before he died. I sent in my resume and cover letter, for the first time updated to his specifications, at 4am Tuesday morning.

Fifteen minutes ago, I got my first callback for an interview. For the job I applied for Tuesday.

Thank you, Adam, for looking out for me from the big HR department in the sky. Tell my grandmothers hello for me.