sigh

Well, Dad just e-mailed to explain that he's giving up on my car. The brake lines can't be removed without taking out the gas tank. The gas tank is fastened in place by some rusty bolts that will probably break. And then, once they've been broken and need replacement, comes the killer: the fuel lines are slightly rusty and will probably break.
So...
No fixing of Voyager, at least not now.

So, I am now in the market for a brand new used car. I'm also considering leasing one. We'll see.

This is where I sort of butt up against the problem that neither Dave nor I has any concrete plans beyond January. We have no lease; we're just living here. We have no commitments. Neither of us have jobs. (Though I'm trying to find a temporary one.)
He will finish school in January or December. And then? Well?
He'll probably look for a job. As will I. I'm also perpetually considering going back to school. I would dearly love to be an English professor of some sort, really I would. But I need to decide. As in all things, i am interested in far far too much-- hence the five novels in progress, hence the eight art projects unfinished, hence the perpetual hedging of bets. I have never, in my entire life, been able to commit to just one thing I was interested enough. I would love to study any one of about fifteen things. I majored in English simply because the number of classes I took and enjoyed were overwhelmingly in the English department, or were cross-listed with the English department so I could get credits to graduate from them. (I entered as a history major, but hated all my history classes.)

So, I simply don't know what to do with my life, and thus don't know what to look for in a car, whether a short-term lease would answer or whether that would leave me in the lurch when I have to give the damn car back.

more: unrelated, a dream I had.

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Gibson

My malnourished, neurotic little betta fish has been with us over a month now. He's totally changed colors because we're feeding him high-quality food, and we had him in a bowl with an antibiotic / general condition enhancer for a while. Yesterday I cleaned both fish bowls and put him back into his martini glass, with a new (non-reactive) tube for him to shelter in-- he'd had a bit of washing machine hose that he liked to hide in, but it turned his water funny colors. Now it's a translucent film canister with the bottom cut out.
I haven't been able to get a good picture of him before, but now that he's in clear water without the blue tint of the condition enhancer, I managed to get a good picture of him.

So, below the cut: Gibson, eating freeze-dried brine shrimp, backlit by a lamp, reflected in the surface of the water in the giant martini glass. (Lit from the front he's not so pink-- that's his blood vessels.)

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beagle-sitting

Dave's mom's away for the long weekend helping his sister Krista with her gallery opening (she's a master's art student and has her big show this weekend), so we're beagle-and-house-sitting. This is complicated (i just almost made up a word, "complexified", before I remembered that there already was one in existence. Duh) by the fact that my parents are coming to visit us this weekend as well.

Anyhow. Dave spent last night there, so poor old Bert wouldn't be alone. But he was bored and thought it was lame over there, so today he brought her over just before dinner, and she's been exploring the house.

At the moment she's refusing to either settle down or poop. But for a while she was snoring on the carpet, and we did get her up on the couch for a bit. She also got up on Dave's bed with him, so I got some pictures of them snuggling. She's confused, because, well, we're familiar, and the house smells like us, but it's not home. So she's a bit nervous.

I hope she settles down; I don't fancy walking her home at this hour, though it could be much worse, certainly.

Behind the cut: Dave and Bert, on his bed, being lovey at very close range to the wide-angle lens. Poor old Bert is so gray now... In evidence are the neckfat rolls, of which I have blogged before.

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