There is Salt All Over the Floor.

Lately, things have been going really well for me. Almost too well. So well, in fact, that I've spent the last two weeks hiding out and staying very still. Nothing bad can happen to you if you stay very still.

Unless people mistake you for a chair. And sit on you.

On the other hand, I was probably due a bit of luck after those months of struggling, and the good luck came all at once. First it was the job interview that turned into a second interview. Then at the second interview I accepted and started my new job that same day. That meant money to buy actual furniture for my apartment, and then today I received an email saying I'm going to have a two-sentence story I wrote published on a postcard. I CAN DO NO WRONG.

Still, it just seems good sense to prepare for my luck's inevitable downturn. Not that I'm a pessimist or anything, but I do believe it's prudent to cram all of my ambitious endeavors into the small window of time before karma nudges me off this golden pedestal and sends me tumbling back to my normal, blundering state of mediocrity. So I'm knocking on wood and crossing my fingers and throwing salt over my shoulder, hoping for just a little more time - just one more moment in the sun.

I'll tell you about everything that's been happening as soon as I catch up on sleep. Who knew that normal working hours actually are really early. I tried to convince my boss to hire me for a night shift, but he was all like, Nobody calls to schedule meetings at three in the morning, and I told him people might if they knew he had a law firm open twenty-four hours a day, and that really, this was a niche that needed filling in the community. 

Aside from working, I've also been shopping for my apartment, which is small and a little scary, but cheap and cozy and mine. For me, though, shopping means I spend most of my time on the interwebs, stoically coming to terms with the fact that I will never be able to afford that antique, shabby-chic writing desk or the delicate little silver espresso cups that are ludicrously tiny for how expensive they are. Five dollars per cup would be fine if each cup could hold a piglet.

This particular teacup is half-off, since a pig actually has been living in it.

The rest of the time I spend looking at things like this: 

The matching pin says HUMANS CAN SUCK IT.

Images via Science, Sort Of; Books, Art & Sci Fi; and Etsy.