I feel like most of my past year has been moving exactly six weeks at a time. 6 weeks from a breakup to graduation. 6 weeks from graduation to starting my summer job. 6 weeks of that job. 6 weeks until I moved to Chicago. 6 weeks in Chicago. 6 weeks home. 6 weeks making pizza in Portland. 6 weeks making tacos. And now, I'm finishing my last week of working in a warehouse. I was hired for 6 weeks, and told I could stay longer if I wanted to. The head of HR (a 23 year old girl who brings the weed for the post-work smoke-a-thon in the parking lot) took me aside the other day and said that if it is at all possible, I should start finding a new job. Fast. I guess this company has been on the verge of collapse for about a year now, mostly due to the fact that my boss is a tremendous fucking tool with little to no ability to listen to others. In a week or so, 5 of the 8 employees are going to confront him with a list of demands, and if he doesn't accept, they are all quitting. Either way, not something I want to stay around and see. But tomorrow, I have a very exciting interview with a leather-working company. I sent them my sewing portfolio, and they were really impressed. In a few weeks, I might be getting paid to sew, which would be incredible. The good thing is, I wouldn't be working with a machine all day, I'd be doing hand sewing, and probably getting cross-trained on firebranding and construction. This would be the first time in a year or so that I would actually be doing work that I like, and it pays better than any job I've had before. Here's hoping it lasts more than 6 weeks.