I spaz

One of these days I'm going to stop obsessing about stupid shit. Like, for instance, I'm currently practically all freaked out about whether I actually got the job at Walgreens, and if so, if I fucked it up by not remembering the dude's name [the one who interviewed me] or not calling back [and getting through, that is] until after he left. Oh, and then there's the whole worry on dress code because I'm broke and if I don't have something already, I'm screwed royally. Unless it's something that can be bought freakishly cheap and then I'd still panic. Because I managed to pick up that bit of genetic legacy. Why, oh why, couldn't I mentally be more like my father, he who doesn't appear to freak out over the stupid things?

On the other hand, obsessing about that is much easier than obsessing over the fact that something is wrong with Tiggy cat. I'll spare the icky details though. I worry. He needs to go to the vet by Monday at the latest. *frets*

In other not so fretful/freakishly freakout news, I have a new H-C banner. I like it. The previous version was too big and was done when I was on the phone, thus it wasn't as spiffy as this. Love it.