Right then.

You know, I spend a lot of time bimbling around the Internet reading excruciatingly terrible websites. The good ones, the ones I should be reading, are largely ignored as I focus my attentions on the trainwrecks, the crazies, the mind-numbingly boring. You’d think I’d have learned by now that there are no standards on the Internet, and it shouldn’t matter what I write here, as long as I do. Having nothing to say apparently stops no-one else. I’ve got proof.

(Someday soon I’ll share some of my favourite crazy links with you all – I’ve been afraid to in case they come after me somehow– but to hell with it. The delight must be shared. Remind me.)

Anyway, so, I’ve had little to say of late. Nothing particularly exciting or amusing has been going on, I haven’t felt much like talking. I work, I drink, I read, I sleep. The End.

Except for the following, which I offer by way of Update:

You know that post I wrote a couple of weeks back, about how much I like it here and how I would dearly love to stay a while longer? Well, a couple of days after that post went up, I came this close to losing my job. I am one of many contractors at my place of employment, and the axe fell upon the vast majority of them one sunny Tuesday in March. The rest of us were told we may have as little as two weeks left.

This was mildly alarming, as you might imagine. I don’t particularly care about the job itself, but I have found that having one is reasonably important. For one thing, apparently continuing to reside at The Pickle requires the paying of rent. For another, if I haven’t earned a particular sum of money by the beginning of May, I will have to leave the country.

It was this latter point that has turned me into a Ball’O’Stress in recent weeks. As soon as I’d worked out just how much I wanted to stay, it looked like I was going to have to leave. Sigh. Cue frantic calls to recruitment agents, blowing dust off my resume, calculating and recalculating my earnings and trying to come with ways to hit that magic target in the few short weeks I had left. Fun times, let me tell you.

Thankfully, several months ago I had submitted an application for a longer-term contract position at this particular establishment, and after getting through an Interview and then an Assessment Centre evaluation (!) in late March, I was offered said longer-term contract last week. Phew. The wolf, she has retreated from the door. The contract itself has a worryingly short termination notice requirement, but I’m hoping like hell that I don’t get sacked in April. April is all I need. I’m on firmer ground now, but still feeling very shaky about it all. Cross your fingers for me.

In other news, The People’s Champion has made his residency at The Pickle official. He is no longer dossing on our couch like the giant walking cliché of a freeloading Australian backpacker that he is. Oh no. He is now paying rent for the privilege.

He’s paying rent to sleep on a couch you say? Well, why not? The Pickle is a great place, I’m telling you. It’s a good couch. He may have little personal space, but we’re all having such fun that it seemed a shame for him to go and live in a dodgy Antipodean sharehouse deep in the East End just for principle’s sake. It’s only for a few more weeks until he goes off on his travels. The Pickle won’t be the same without him.

What else? I joined a gym. I’ve even attended said gym maybe five or six times. In a month. Baby steps, you know. I’m considering getting a haircut. I read some good books, I read some trashy ones. I saw that movie Kenny (awesome). I also saw that movie Cannonball Run (double triple awesome). I've been watching as much of the cricket World Cup as possible (Go Bangladesh! Go Ireland!). I’m sure there’s more. Stand by.