I hear the cosmetic counters are maze-like. Someone mentioned to me last month that they weren't heard from for days after venturing down into the basement in search of Chanel. I'm sure they were exaggerating.
My Man of Honor works the Estee Lauder counter there, and since my temp job at the school is officially over, I'm hopping into Manhattan to see him and get a makeover, and talk general wedding stuff.
Yeah, the job ended Thursday. The decision was made by some higher-ups who don't work with me, and really have no idea what impact I may or may not have had on the department. So supposedly it had nothing to do with me, although I can't believe my being so expensive had nothing to do with it. My boss didn't want me to leave, it was very sweet. We chatted for a good half hour about all sorts of stuff before I finally headed down those big chandeliered stairs for the last time. He suggested I case the local Independent schools for development work, and offered me the highest of recommendations. I may taken him up on that.
Or, I may just keep temping. It's been good for me.
It would be so tempting, however, to just be a part-time massage therapist for the next six months, and focus on the wedding. My student loan won't get paid off very quickly if I do that, but still... it's the wedding...
Anyway, I better get my ass in gear if I'm going to make it into Manhattan by noon. There's no more non-resident parking permits at the Tarrytown Metro-North station, and it's royal bitch to leave your car there now - you have to park at a meter. I'm investigating parking at other stations. Blech.