Cat and a Chicken: Two Hundred Forty-Six

640386_80147271Tomorrow I go to meet my potential new boss for a meeting, an hour long breakfast where I will say that I want to do this – even with the cons on my pro and con list some tough ones to overcome – the loss of friendships made, loss of seniority, loss of these events like the festival and market that I really love, driving challenges, expectations of knowledge and abilities I may not have, loss of vacation/money (perhaps)

It is beyond surreal to be standing at the precipice of something I have swatted time after time out of my mind for fear that it would suddenly take root and I would want to leave without any exit strategy.  That the desire would ignite in me and I would no longer  be able to focus or handle my workload as a result of the sudden onset senioritis…only now, now I have a route out, glowing in the dark with bio-luminescence and I can just about follow it out of this labyrinth.  And the fear of distraction has started full-throttle.  I can hardly think about anything other than what my goodbye letter will read, how I will have to take my current boss out to lunch and give her a bottle of wine and my co-workers goodbye gifts and maybe they’ll throw me a goodbye party.  I have to focus on this because the worry about everything else – the Mount Everest I have to climb to allow myself a dignified escape is harrowing.

But I’m not backing off.  I don’t want to go back into the drudgery.  I want the dream, the belief that I can change, the power of just, rightly or wrongly, making a choice for myself and following it through.

More tomorrow, I guess.

What else?

We had a work function, because, of course, we always have work functions.  Mr. .000000003%  Crush was there.  We talked on the phone 3 times to organize our dinner.  He came in and, like the professional he is, greeted everyone, but made a point to say hello and call me by name and pointed me out to the server so that she would know I was important.  I am not mistaking this for the bloom of masculine interest.  I am just saying…he said my name and I liked not being one of the masses.  He also talked about this massive hike he went on through 27 miles and rain and hail and I realized more clearly our obvious incompatibility (at least at this stage of the game when I am buying bags of doughnuts and giant grilled cheese sandwiches at the deli to keep me from ever sitting still and contemplating what I actually am contemplating right now.)

So yeah, I wanted this post to have a glossy sheen.  I wanted this post to have wordplay and talk about the hem of my skirt being blown askew by the windy moors and my hair being tangled in the gusts, but I am tired, overfull, and want to be beyond the waiting and not drenched in it.

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