Last Thursday marked my move to Brooklyn, which began horribly. I had an argument with my landlord, who very illegally attempted to withhold my entire security deposit for "severe damages", i.e., microscopic nail holes and picture hooks. I am in the midst of writing a letter to threaten legal action. Hooray! Then on the way to my new apartment, we were carefully driving along in a construction zone when we hit something protruding and the passenger window exploded into my face. By some grace of someone or something, I emerged with only a handful of cuts and undergarments filled with glass. And luckily, I had (reluctantly) paid the $18 U-Haul insurance, and thus did not have to pay for the damage. So hey, I survived, and my new apartment is the bomb. The end.
After a two-year absence, Liz E. is back in my life and staying at my apartment this week. She's here for a schmancy law firm job fair through Cornell, so during the day she does stressful lawyer-y things and then I meet her and other Future Lawyers of America for dinner. These people read my company's books and get excited when I talk about my job. I am intrigued because this never happens and I never expect it to.
In other news, I'm sifting through intern applications, and I am aghast at the number of errors wreaking havoc on resumes and cover letters. Seriously, you studied in "Londan"? "As you will find on me atached resume?" Pain.
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