Oh, Unspeakables! Dirty ears! Hangnails! Snel-frockey! Spit! WE AREN'T GOING!
So fumed Podkayne of Mars, in the lovely sort of creative euphemism so often employed by RAH in his YA novels from the 1950-60's. Because, of course, nice little girls and boys don't swear. Not that this blog suffers from that kind of senseless taboo, but I can never resist a literary allusion.
Well, it seems that through a dreadful misunderstanding--akin in kind and disruptiveness to the clerical error which begat Podkayne's fury, though it does not involve the accidental decanting of frozen embryos--we may not be moving to NYC after all. It is of course ultimately a matter of money. Unfortunately, imaginary money doesn't have the same cash value in the real world as real money does, so finding out that a big chunk of one's financial aid ought to have an italicized i written next to the $$ amount is really a staggering discovery. I'm at a loss to explain how it is that funding offered as if it were really there, only not, is actually financial "aid."
[Disclaimer: the above is my ranting, not Brent's. He's a lot nicer person than I am in almost every respect.]
Unless thousands of dollars suddenly drop from the sky, NYC is out of reach. There's a limit to how amazingly miserly even I can be with a weekly grocery list.
So it seems we are once again in Limbo. GTS does seem to really want Brent, and we are now waiting to see what else they might could do. I'm not holding my breath, frankly, but there's nothing to do but wait and see.
Limbo sucked the first time around. A second helping is ever more dreary. Ambiguity tolerance! is my battle cry. (Spoken from the diaphragm like any true superhero.)