A lot has changed over the past few months, and mostly in a sunny-side-up way. I was fired from a job I liked only because it was at an art gallery, which allowed me to say that I worked at an art gallery, which I did, until I didn’t. Getting fired didn’t blacken my mood much, since I’m used to being fired and because what they considered tardy, I considered making my own schedule—a difference we couldn’t resolve. After that, I spent a few weeks knocking on doors for the US Census. As much as I wish I had been assigned to a wealthy neighborhood with plenty of attractive women with civil servant fantasies, people in those neighborhoods apparently send their census forms in, so I spent a month in neighborhoods that smell overwhelmingly like fried foods.