From the Diary of Mrs. Allison Jones
April 14th, 1903
Dear Diary,
Well, Cyd's last interview led to nowhere. And it would have been such a good job for him. It's awful how they won't even give him a chance, just because he's married to me. Cyd's been talking about going to somewhat less savory people in hopes of getting employment -- I'm torn about the idea. I want Cyd to feel useful, but I also don't want to fear for his life every time he leaves the house!
It's not all bad, however. Although Cyd may not have a job, Porthos does! One of the local factories needed a vermin catcher, and Porthos was accepted near-immediately. I have no doubt he'll do well, and the extra money will do us good.
Cyd also surprised me with an early anniversary gift (one year tomorrow!) -- a new bath! This one comes with a shower, which should make bathing MUCH easier.
I've made my own purchase as of late -- this young man from the local university was selling these strange hats with lightbulbs on them. He told me they were literal thinking caps. I was quite intrigued and bought one.
And it's BLOODY FANTASTIC! The villagers are fools to dismiss it -- I felt wonderful, wearing it! And it made learning skills ever so much easier!
I think I may find that boy again and buy one for Cyd too. I'm sure my husband would love it -- his life revolves around improving his skills. What was his name, Everett? No, Emmett, that's it. Emmett Brown. I'll call him tomorrow.
That reminds me, I also want to see about having a little get-together soon. Cyd and I may be outcasts, but we do have a few friends. It would be wonderful to get everyone together for a little party or something. The only problem is, when is everyone free. . . .
Well, I'm sure I'll figure out something. I can at least be assured of Joe and Ivy coming, whenever it is -- we've gotten very close. Probably from all the horror stories we've all shared from being in the food industry.
Oops, looks like I'll have to end this entry here -- Porthos wants my attention. He's such a sweet little dog. Yes, Porthos, I'm coming.
Dear Diary,
Well, Cyd's last interview led to nowhere. And it would have been such a good job for him. It's awful how they won't even give him a chance, just because he's married to me. Cyd's been talking about going to somewhat less savory people in hopes of getting employment -- I'm torn about the idea. I want Cyd to feel useful, but I also don't want to fear for his life every time he leaves the house!
It's not all bad, however. Although Cyd may not have a job, Porthos does! One of the local factories needed a vermin catcher, and Porthos was accepted near-immediately. I have no doubt he'll do well, and the extra money will do us good.
Cyd also surprised me with an early anniversary gift (one year tomorrow!) -- a new bath! This one comes with a shower, which should make bathing MUCH easier.
I've made my own purchase as of late -- this young man from the local university was selling these strange hats with lightbulbs on them. He told me they were literal thinking caps. I was quite intrigued and bought one.
And it's BLOODY FANTASTIC! The villagers are fools to dismiss it -- I felt wonderful, wearing it! And it made learning skills ever so much easier!
I think I may find that boy again and buy one for Cyd too. I'm sure my husband would love it -- his life revolves around improving his skills. What was his name, Everett? No, Emmett, that's it. Emmett Brown. I'll call him tomorrow.
That reminds me, I also want to see about having a little get-together soon. Cyd and I may be outcasts, but we do have a few friends. It would be wonderful to get everyone together for a little party or something. The only problem is, when is everyone free. . . .
Well, I'm sure I'll figure out something. I can at least be assured of Joe and Ivy coming, whenever it is -- we've gotten very close. Probably from all the horror stories we've all shared from being in the food industry.
Oops, looks like I'll have to end this entry here -- Porthos wants my attention. He's such a sweet little dog. Yes, Porthos, I'm coming.
