"It would talk; Lord, how it talked!"

I wish I had three wishes; I would wish not to talk so much three times.

I had a job interview this morning. It started out well. I stated my case, I showed my work, I explained my circumstances and how I would fit in with the company's needs, and I asked intelligent and relevant questions.

Somehow it turned into a retelling of all my business by the end. Ugh. And double ugh. How my brother's death relates to a freelance writing job I have no idea, and why it came up and out I do not know.

"[Her] talk was like a stream which runs
With rapid change from rock to roses;
It slipped from politics to puns;
It passed from Mahomet to Moses;
Beginning with the laws that keep
The planets in the radiant courses,
And ending with some precept deep
For dressing eels or shoeing horses."
-- Praed, "The Vicar"

This was perfect for me, too.

Meh. Maybe I'll write a cookbook.